


Tweeker Nation

by metrophobic



Series: Tweeker Nation [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Porn, Bottom Craig, Catfishing, Cheating, Dating But Fighting - The College Years, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internet Sugar Daddies, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Problematic Hot, Self-Harm, Sex Work, Sexting, Shibari, Top Tweek, Trash Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrophobic/pseuds/metrophobic
Summary: Supposedly, only 55% of college students manage to graduate within six years. Will Craig Tucker and his social circle be among them, or will they join the sad and disenfranchised millions with nothing but debt to their names? And just what the Hell is up with his boyfriend's weird secret life on Tumblr, anyway?





	1. Left on Read

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened, and I'm basically ready to wreck my favourite boys in all my favourite ways. Welcome to the shitty garbage college AU that nobody asked for. This is my ~~McDonald's~~ ~~Burger King~~ Sonic milkshake fic. Enjoy.

“Dude. You’re _still_ in bed?”

Craig rolled over and lifted a hand to scrub at his eyes. He’d already been hovering at the edges of sleep, that place where you _finally_ start to sink after staring at the ceiling for two fucking hours and masturbating in frustration in the hopes that forcing an orgasm out will put you under. Your own personal anesthesia, right there in your ballsack. But then Kyle’s voice cut through the stale air, and he was right back to where he started.

It was 12:41 and he missed not only his 8:00 class, but the 10:00 one too. It was Wednesday and Monday had gone about the same route. He wasn’t a morning person. Since freshmen got the slim pickings when it came to schedules, though, they always assumed that they were still wearing what high school forced them into. What a crock of shit.

Kyle still had his shoes on. He was fiddling around with the stuff on his desk. Craig tried to wrack his brain to remember his schedule—was he about to head to another class, or sit down and start working on shit?—he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t fucking remember. And then Kyle set down his Macroeconomics textbook with a _thump,_ followed by his laptop. The clacking of keys followed after. Craig sighed and forced himself to sit up. He fished around on the floor for his discarded t-shirt, pulled it over his head, then stepped into his jeans.

“Tweek wanted to know where you were,” Kyle remarked casually.

Craig grunted noncommittally.

“He said you were leaving him on read.”

“Okay,” Craig said tersely, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He shook his head and grabbed for his phone off the tiny night table that sat next to his shitty dorm-issued bed which might as well have been a hospital cot. There were 11 messages waiting for him and only four of them were immediately readable on the screen; that’s how long and meandering they were. He only left Tweek on read last night before he sulked himself to sleep. He had to prove something. To whom, for what, who the Hell even knew.

 

**WED AT 9:54AM**

_Are uou even coming or nit im not fucking waiting uo for you i am so sick of this shit youre not ny fucking dad, i dont owe yoj a FUCKING thing do you get it???? Het that thru ur fuxking skull? But i guess im good if you wnt my dick or whatever. If you dont come by im sticking it somewhere else. Good fucking night you goddamn cheapsate i hope you are haopy just jacking it to sleep FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER FOREVERMORE_

 

How do you say goodnight when it’s first thing in the morning? This was one of those unsolved mysteries that seemed to hang around his boyfriend like a fucking cloud. Kind of like the cloud he lived in; when it didn’t taste like pot smoke it was bright and open eyes after snorting lines of Adderall, or glass when he decided to throw caution to the wind and go harder. Craig couldn’t bring himself to blame him, even when he drove him up the fucking wall, which tended to be nearly every day lately. The fear always gripped him by the chest like an icy hand, that he’d stumble on him in a back alley somewhere with a crack pipe clutched in his bony hand, or on the floor of a condemned building that crawled with human cockroaches, needle to the ground.

He always slid neatly out of one bad habit into another, and maybe Craig underestimated him, because he never went _that_ far when it came to experimenting with harder drugs, but it was really difficult to tell sometimes how close he was to the edge.

Craig walked across the street to his building. _Here,_ he texted, because unfortunately they didn’t just let anyone go into the dorms. You had to be signed in. If Tweek was drooling into a pillow after a bender, Craig might as well have been trying to climb through his window.

He considered it sometimes. Even though Tweek’s room was seven floors up.

The elevator beeped and the skinny, tangled, forever-disheveled hot mess that was Richard Tweek Jr. (though no one would ever, ever call him by that cursed fucking name if they wanted to leave with both eyes intact) came strolling out into the lobby. His hands were in the pockets of his sleep-pants. He did not have on a shirt. His nipples were puckering little toffees in the cool air and Craig _still_ got that swimming feeling in his stomach whenever he entered his field of view. That strange mixture of pity and lust that only someone both deranged and sickeningly beautiful would instill in someone like him, who was neither of those things, just pathetic.

Pathetic. Craig knew it. He was pathetic.

“You can’t be in the common areas without a shirt,” said the receptionist, who was really just a bored junior on work-study. Tweek didn’t say anything to her or Craig, just scribbled something down in the logbook and headed back to the elevator. Craig headed after him, and he really thought Tweek would just let the doors close in his face, so it was a good thing they had to wait for it. It was a tense silence that hung between them.

“I overslept,” Craig finally stated as they got into the elevator. There was something crusted in the corner, likely a splash of vomit that the cleaners missed. “I slept through my morning classes.”

“Me _too,_ ” Tweek bit back in a scathing tone. He took Craig by the wrist when they got to his floor and practically dragged him into his dorm. Craig sat on the bed to take off his shoes and socks. A feral grin twisted Tweek’s mouth, and he plucked up one of the socks between his fingers, opened the door just enough to stick his arm out and hung it on the knob.

“I didn’t come here for sex,” said Craig, arms folded across his chest. Tweek advanced on him anyway once the door was closed, and got down on his knees.

“Yes you did!” It came out around a laugh. “You always do!”

“No I didn’t,” Craig held fast, feeling the heat rise in his face.

“Then go get the sock.” Tweek was already undoing Craig’s jeans. “Go get the sock, _Craig._ ”

Craig sighed through his nose. He was heavy, wooden, melded to the fucking cot under his ass as Tweek pulled him out through his boxers and licked almost playfully at the head of his dick, then swallowed him down, _fuck,_ all the way in. He was always so fucking _good_ at that, to the point where Craig questioned the methods by which he obtained these abilities in the first place. Tweek purred up at him and Craig realized then that he had a firm hold on both sides of his head. It always happened so naturally that sometimes he didn’t notice.

“Did you stick it somewhere else,” Craig said out loud. He hadn’t meant to—or had he? Tweek pulled his head off and panted, looking up at him with his tongue hanging out.

“Maybe,” he said. “What if I did?” He wrapped his long fingers around Craig’s cock and jacked it slow and firm.

“Then wear a condom,” Craig shot back. It was all he could think of. Tweek just chuckled at him—in that sultry, frustrating way of his—and pressed both hands to Craig’s chest, pushed him down onto his back. Then he was climbing over him, eyes bright.

“Want my cock?”

“ _No,_ ” Craig replied, and glared up at him. He actually did, and the spit-damp erection that hung out of his pants was plain as day, incriminating him.

“That’s too bad,” said Tweek. Was he laughing again? There was certainly something like that in his expression. He tugged down his pajama pants enough to pull himself out, and gave a few slow strokes for Craig’s benefit. Like always, Craig couldn’t take his eyes off him. “ _I’m gonna fuck you,_ ” Tweek sang out, his voice low and ominous.

“Don’t…” Craig drew in a harsh breath. “Don’t do that.” He watched as Tweek fumbled through the nightstand, ripped the corner of the foil off with his teeth, and pulled out the bright blue rubber. Some kind of sickly-sweet, sugary smell drifted between them. Craig wrinkled his nose. “Is that flavoured lube,” he asked flatly.

“Yep,” and Tweek grinned. “Thought you’d— you’d like it. Wanna taste?” He shifted forward on his knees, until he was hovering above Craig’s neck and shoulders, and rolled the condom onto himself. Then he tapped the slick rubbered head against Craig’s lips. “Mm. Open up, honey.”

Craig parted his lips, just a little, hoping a cursory lick would be enough to placate him. It was too sweet, and tasted as disgusting as it smelled. He could feel the heat of Tweek’s dick through its newfound second skin, and it was strange. Craig didn’t like it. He didn’t like that Tweek did what he was told, either; were his suspicions correct, or was he being fucked with?

Did it ever really matter?

They made quick work of the rest of their clothing, tossing it onto the floor and into the wall, and Tweek caught Craig’s legs at the knees and pulled them around his thin body. In an effort to feel more human and less like a manhandled wheelbarrow Craig clutched tight at his bony shoulders when he slid inside, hard enough to bruise (or so he hoped) and felt the prickle in his stomach when Tweek whined softly in response. After a few moments of heady, desperate rutting that left sweat on their limbs everywhere they touched skin, Tweek pulled back and growled something about riding his dick. Craig was happy to obey.

“Yeah,” Tweek groaned as Craig perched atop him and pulled him inside once more. “That’s it, you’re so sexy, you look so hot, fuck yeah…” Why was Craig angry with him again? He couldn’t even remember. Tweek reached around him and squeezed his ass. “Mine,” he said with a hazy grin.

“Uh-huh,” Craig gasped out. “Yours.”

“And I’m not— I’m not a dumb whore, am I? I’m good, and you love me, _Craig._ ”

“Okay,” Craig breathed, because he didn’t know what else to say to that. He did, but it always felt wrong to say it, like it was just the funniest thing in the world to Tweek. Their love shouldn’t have been an inside joke. It was supposed to be real.

“Oh fuck,” came Tweek’s voice. “Fuck, ah Jesus, I’m c— I’m coming, I _love you!_ ” Craig wasn’t gifted with the flood of him inside, not this time, but he felt the throb of him anyway. He grabbed himself and jacked fiercely, grunting as he splattered all over his lover’s chest. Tweek breathlessly dragged his long fingers through the mess, and shoved them against Craig’s mouth.

He didn’t like the taste of himself, never did, but he sucked them clean anyway. Tweek leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you lick me clean,” he said with a sniff, like a spoiled brat. Because that’s essentially what he was. Craig frowned deeply and reached for his sad lonely sock to wipe up the rest of their mess. Even the condom was rolled off by him, dutifully tied shut and flung into the wastebasket. The sock went too.

He’d never want to wear the damn thing again anyway, so it might as well have.

“I’m going back to my dorm,” said Craig. Tweek whined at that and reached out for him. He was warm, in spite of the bones beneath his skin. Too warm.

“Cuddle me,” he said. “I thought you loved me.” Craig drew in a frustrated breath through his nose.

“You know I do,” he said, sort of testily. Tweek cracked an eye open and then yanked him down with all his strength.

“Then don’t leave me,” he whispered.

Craig was boned. Again. Literally and figuratively. He gave up and arranged himself around the body beneath him, fitting them uncomfortably on the small cot that could barely hold one person let alone two halves of the same whole. Tweek buried his face in his chest. Craig thought about raising the question again, but he didn’t.

Instead, he listened to the rapid-fire breaths of the other young man, unsure if he ever properly lulled himself to sleep. Time drifted past, and there were occasional footfalls outside their door and voices, but they never got back the sock. Craig reached over to the floor, ignoring the drowsy whine he got in protest, and pulled out his phone. He couldn’t sleep, so naturally the best thing to do was fall down the Tumblr rabbithole. He ran his own cute animal aesthetic blog that was fairly popular, and so some of the things he scrolled over ended up in his posting queue. A few of them even made it onto his stupid “#for tweek” tag, because when he wasn’t being a giant fucking disaster, Tweek enjoyed looking at cute things, too.

An alert popped up on Craig’s screen. A random blog had started following him: “ **666cloudnaysh666** ”? The name was stupid enough for him to tap on it out of idle curiosity.

Some nasty skinny bitch with too much eyeliner had plastered selfies of herself all over, some of them animated, with a glass pipe, and smoke. A lot of foggy, white smoke. Craig could see the dingy bottom of her pipe and knew immediately what it was.

A meth blog.

Wasn’t this self-incrimination? He’d heard of these things before, but had always remained under the blissfully ignorant impression that they were just one of those silly myths. No one would _really_ be so stupid as to put their illicit substance abuse out there on the internet for anyone to consume, would they?

 _Would_ they?

All of the smoking selfies had one thing in common: the tag. “#tweaker nation”, it said. Craig couldn’t stop himself. He tapped on that tag. He had to see this monstrosity for himself, if it was really true, if Tumblr really did have a subset of gross people who acted like smoking methamphetamines was the latest trend.

There were a lot of them: mostly girls. Some of them actually looked normal, if it weren’t for the puffy clouds that hung around them. “Lookin for some fun, DM me” a lot of the posts said. There were some crusty looking dudes, too. Craig found absolutely nothing about them attractive. In fact, nothing about any of this was attractive, so why couldn’t he look away? One couple started making out in the middle of their smoking. Craig rolled his eyes. Another was blowing smoke all over his girlfriend’s bared titties.

Craig snorted.

“Shut up,” Tweek mumbled into his skin. Craig spared a glance downward. Tweek was still buried against him, back arching subtly with each breath he took. He must have been asleep, or at least on the train heading there. Craig ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, and then went back to his phone.

There was one selfie that was in black and white, showing some guy’s naked, skinny torso. His thighs were artfully crossed so that his dick stayed out of the frame, but the whole thing made Craig’s head swim anyway. It didn’t sit right with him. Neither did the one that followed in the same post: a pair of curved lips, a long throat, sharp collarbones. Even with the lack of colour, Craig could easily make out the dusky flowers that mottled the man’s skin. His lips were parted, and the image was animated: the white, white fog rolling out of his mouth and drifting all around the frame.

“ **tweeker-nation** ”. That was the blog’s name.

A knock at the door shattered the ice in his brain. “ _Yooo!_ ” A cheerful voice called from the other side—Kenny’s. “Y’all done fuckin’ yet?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to my self-indulgent, shitty excuse for vomiting out whatever melodramatic problematic garbage I feel like. How did they even all end up at the same university? Who the fuck knows. Should I care? Do I care? No.
> 
> I’ll update the tags/warnings with shit as they come up, I guess.
> 
> Additional disclaimer: None of these Tumblr blog names actually existed at the time of writing this. If that happens to change, well, sorry.


	2. Boof It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun with this already, oops. ;(

Craig hadn’t felt up to eating that night.

After Tweek’s roommate barged into their dorm halfway through Craig’s scramble to put his clothes back on—awakening Tweek in the process—he made up something about his stomach hurting too much to go to the dining hall. They didn’t seem to hear him, anyway; not over Tweek’s shouting and Kenny’s high-pitched guffaws. Tweek tried to punch Kenny in the face at some point while Craig was pulling on his shoes, which felt gritty against his bare feet.

“I’m keeping this as a jizz sock,” Kenny commented as Craig left the room. Tweek hurried after him, buck-naked in the doorway, and hugged him tight from behind.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t go.”

“I’m _not_ hanging out with that asshole around,” Craig retorted, with a glower. Tweek kissed him on the neck.

“I’m really gonna miss you, man,” he said, with a wry laugh. The door slammed behind him.

Craig’s feet felt like wooden blocks all the way back to his dorm, like he’d just been deftly tossed over some bridge and was slogging through the bay to his own demise. He didn’t even recall heading through the lobby or into the elevator; only when he was unlocking his door did he realize he’d made it back and was about to go collapse headfirst onto his bed and— what did he do in these trying times? Wank? Sleep? Think? Certainly not _cry._

He did none of these things, because his phone was in his hand, impossibly heavy, and he was on that godforsaken Tumblr again, scrolling through. There had been no new posts since he last looked. The posts were full of images, some in artistic greyscale, many of them with odd filters that made their subject look more washed out than Craig already knew him to be, or brighter, or like he even had a _halo_ sometimes—like the times he’d catch sight of the sunlight over his skin and hair, either in the morning or the evening—kind of like right now. If he’d been here, anyway. Craig squinted at the screen. It probably would have been wise to turn on the light, because the sun was setting.

But no one else was here, anyway. Kyle’s laptop was gone. His books were gone. Did he have an evening class on Wednesdays? Craig couldn’t remember for the life of him. He couldn’t have been expected to keep track of everyone in his life, and Kyle was barely there, anyway. He was a technicality. A fixture.

In some ways, Tweek was like that, too. But Craig couldn’t think about that now, or it would break him. He already felt sick to his stomach scrolling through that stupid “tweeker” blog of his. People cracked jokes sometimes, and Craig wasn’t blind to the vices his—god, what _were_ they?—wrapped himself in. But it was only on occasion, Tweek had promised. Only sometimes. No, not even enough to be sometimes. “Just when I need to stay awake,” he’d said. “And my meds aren’t helping.” So he would self-medicate.

But not _sometimes._ Only _rarely._

This wasn’t rare. This wasn’t sometimes. This was _every. fucking. night_ —how stupid did Tweek think he was? _Posted 1 day ago. 2 days ago. 3 days ago. 6 days ago._ The occasional gap must have been his justification for it, but Craig knew what those gaps were. They were the excuses not to see him, the excuses to crash, to sleep it all off and then start all over again. Tweek smiled up at him from the phone, his eyes lifeless, dulled smile even as it stretched to show all his teeth. They were all intact. They weren’t always, but his parents made good money from that stupid company of theirs, and so Tweek got the royal treatment when it came to his smile. Supposedly it melted hearts, but for Craig, it just melted his guts.

And now, he didn’t even know if he had anything in him _left_ to melt. Every picture was filled with smoke. Sultry gazes, lingering tongues on lips, mouths curved open the same way they would when they were between Craig’s thighs. Stupid asinine comments that made no sense. Pretty clouds and double entendres about his throat. _It can take a lot of abuse._

Anger surged through Craig, thick and hot and burning, maybe Tweek would have even liked it—just like the harsh smoke that blackened his lungs because he was a fucking addict, an addict, and it was worse than a secret. It was something to be proud of, but something to be proud of _away_ from the prying eyes of anyone stupid enough to love him.

 _DM me._ It was from around a week ago, according to the vague marker of time. Tweek’s fingertips looked dirty even with the filter—or maybe that was intentional—playing over smooth flat skin and skimming down the trail of hair under his navel. Then it was lower, his touch, thin tendrils of smoke curling around his fist and teasing the swollen shaft wrapped up in his hand. _dm me,_ it said underneath. _i’m so fucking lonely._

Craig reacted. He held down the buttons that would capture the screen of his device, promptly opened Tweek’s name, and— halted.

No.

Craig held a considerable amount of pride for his tendency to operate under logic rather than emotion. And logic told him right then and there, before emotion could take over, that he needed to sit on this one. Confronting Tweek would give him satisfaction, but it would be satisfaction that was short-lived, because who knew what kind of drama would come back around to kick him in the face. It might be the catalyst to finally pushing Tweek over the edge.

As livid, betrayed as Craig felt, he didn’t want that on his conscience.

So instead, he pulled up his laptop, opened up Tumblr, logged out, and promptly created a new blog: **boofit420**.

Of course, he couldn’t just dive in right away. That would blow his cover. Tweek might have been a space case with all the shit that’s eaten through his head, but he wasn’t _stupid._ He would have figured out right away that something was up if he’d been messaged with an empty blog. So Craig spent the next couple of hours picking through this strange crystal wonderland that opened up before him, filled with emaciated girls and trashy looking dudes. After reblogging a few pictures of the substance itself with stupid tags like “#spun fun” and “#twackedlyfe”, he dove further down the rabbit-hole and found a blog that hadn’t been active for a couple of years.

 _Wonder if he died,_ was the first thing to spring to mind, and Craig felt no remorse at all.

He bookmarked the page and snagged a few images, reposting them to his brand spanking new, meth chic Tumblr and silently praying that no one would stumble across this monstrosity and recognize the man in the photos.

Then, with a deep breath, he clicked the _Follow_ button in the corner of Tweek’s blog.

Nothing happened. He didn’t think anything _would,_ of course— but this whole affair was out of his element. Tweek was out of his element, always. Where was he in all of these pictures and silent videos, anyway? He couldn’t have been doing this from his dorm room. The paranoia would carry him away before the clouds ever did. So where did he go to indulge himself?

Craig spent the rest of the evening picking away at his readings and reloading Tweek’s blog. He tried to tell himself that he would check it after each chapter, but found himself refreshing the browser after every page, then every paragraph. It was pathetic.

Dear god, he was pathetic.

 _No,_ he told himself firmly, shutting his laptop with a _snap._ He was _not_ going to let Tweek control him like this. Tweek always had all of the control in their relationship—or at least that’s how it seemed, and Tweek certainly reveled in it—he wouldn’t saturate Craig’s thoughts to this point, too. Craig refused to let that happen.

He sighed to himself and forced himself, _forced_ that conveniently stubborn mind of his to focus on what he had spread in front of him. His academic future depended on everything he was supposed to do, and so far, he’d shirked too much of it this week. He didn’t want to let himself fall behind, and certainly not on Tweek’s fucking account. As if he deserved that much credit, to mangle someone enough so that they became a washed up failure. Tweek could let himself be destroyed all he wanted.

Craig was better than that.

It was approaching midnight when he finally finished his reading assignment. Craig stretched out and rested his head on the desk for a moment, trying to gather his wits. He didn’t have class until the afternoon tomorrow, _thankfully,_ and yet he found a part of himself trying to stave off sleep. It was all he wanted to do lately, and all that he wanted to get away from. His dreams were weird and empty.

He got out the laptop and opened Tweek’s blog again. Just one check, he told himself. One more and he’d give up for the night. Maybe Tweek was headed for another crash again.

That was giving him too much credit, though. Tweek had posted something. A few somethings, in fact. The first couple of posts were just random reblogs of skanky girls, which made Craig’s chest tighten with something unfamiliar and uncomfortable. But underneath them, Tweek had made a post of his own. He was naked, leaning back on a bed that Craig had never seen before, legs crossed in _just_ the right manner so that his groin wasn’t exposed to the world. The expression on his face looked bored and yet amused at once, gaze held firmly on the camera.

It was three shots, and they were coloured in sepia, like this was supposed to be vintage.

The first shot, he looked normal. Normal, at least by whatever standards Craig thought he would fall under. There was no paraphernalia, just him, him and his skin. It was enough to send a buzzing through Craig’s lower belly and further down, along with the pangs of something more raw that were, sadly, not unfamiliar. The second, he had that disgusting pipe in his mouth, practically fellating the damn thing as he lit up, flame impossibly bright. The third, he’d brought it down to his side, lips spread open as smoke billowed all around him.

Craig was already half-hard, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself because even the accompanying caption of _bored, dm me, lets play_ wasn’t enough to make it shrink away in disgust, even as bile burned his throat.

With a glance cast toward the door, as if Kyle would come barging in at any moment (because he _could,_ even though being gone this late meant he was probably in Stan’s room), Craig opened the message tab and clicked on **tweeker-nation**.

The minutes ticked by while he stared blankly at the message box. Sure, he and Tweek had teased each other via text plenty of times, but now they were supposed to be strangers. Craig never even messaged strangers, let alone tried to hit on them. What if he sounded too fake, too obvious, or worse: too personal?

He was probably overthinking this. As if trashy meth addicts gave any thought to the shit they were writing.

 _Hey,_ he finally sent.

More minutes stretched past him. Maybe Tweek had gone to bed? The thought left him as quickly as it began. There was no way in Hell Tweek would be in bed. He didn’t operate on normal human being hours. No, he was probably messaging with someone else. Maybe multiple someones. Craig felt his face grow hot and his stomach churned.

Then, it finally came. Tweek finally answered.

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi

Craig didn’t know why he felt so nervous. His heart was pounding and his tongue had gone dry. Maybe the rage, the _hurt_ had decided to channel itself into something less productive, because that was how his brain tended to operate.

God, he hated his fucking brain.

 **boofit420  
** still bored  
?

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea  
wyd

 **boofit420  
** just smoked  
chillin now

 **tweeker-nation  
** lol  
u didnt boof?

Shit. Craig leaned forward and pressed his fingers to his eyes, rubbing them in irritation. Of _course_ he’d already fumbled. Clearly someone with a name that referenced “boofing” would be more likely to stick crystals up their ass, not smoke them.

If they spoke again—which Craig already decided they would—he’d get better at pretending.

 **boofit420  
** not tonite lol

 **tweeker-nation  
** man i nvr tryed that shit  
does it hurt/

 **boofit420  
** not really  
you get used to it

 **tweeker-nation  
** maybe if u like puting thngs up ur ass lol  
do u

 **boofit420  
** yeah  
im gay so

 **tweeker-nation  
** me to  
but im top only  
ummm r we mutuals?  
u have no posts b4 2day

 **boofit420  
** i followed u  
u showed up in my recs  
i had to delete some shit happened

 **tweeker-nation  
** okkkk  
im rly horny btw

 **boofit420  
** same

 **tweeker-nation  
** if ur nice i might show u my dick  
u want it?

 **boofit420  
** hell yeah  
lemme see

 **tweeker-nation  
** [pic]

It wasn’t any image Craig had seen of Tweek’s cock before, but it _was_ definitely his, which meant he’d probably taken it just now. He’d held it upright with his fingers, and he was fully hard, his thighs parted a little. _This_ shot was in colour. Craig could see every shade of flesh, and pink, and the golden-brown curls that framed it, and his tongue darted out over his lips.

 **boofit420  
** fuck thats big

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea bet ud like to boof this  
lol

 **boofit420  
** lol  
yea  
your dick is so hot, fuck

 **tweeker-nation  
** ty  
id make u suck it  
want me to fuck ur mouth?

 **boofit420  
** fuck yeah  
i’ll swallow all your cum

With another frenzied glance at the door, Craig reached down into his pants and hauled out his dick, spat in his hand and let his fist slide over himself, over and over. He thought about Tweek doing the same, lying there naked on that strange bed, legs spread as he stroked himself. Maybe his eyes would be a little hazy, a little unfocused, because it wouldn’t be an internet stranger that gave him this hunger or propelled him into toying with himself. It would be the drug in him, and the anonymous stranger on the other end wasn’t another human being behind a keyboard but a vehicle, a dispenser, just something to exist for him while he got off.

Maybe it wouldn’t be like it was for Craig. Because “boofit420” didn’t know how Tweek liked his head, but Craig did. Craig knew he loved it when he tongued around the tip of him, right under the rim, and when he choked him down enough to rub the grain of his tongue against that place just before it met his balls. He also knew that even though Tweek told his new meth blog buddy that he didn’t like things in his ass, that this was the only time he did, when he’d allow a slick finger to ease up inside and massage him until he was squirming and rolling his hips against it. He knew that he would always swallow for him, even on the days when he tasted bitter.

Craig came quickly, gasping, reaching to tug up his shirt even though he knew he was going to throw it off in a moment anyway.


	3. One of Those

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is garbage and nothing hurts.

“Medium dulce de leche latte, with soy please. And go light on the foam, too. There should basically only be a— like a ribbon, on top. Got it?”

“Sure,” said the cashier, with that bright sunny smile that read to anyone familiar with customer service, _you fucking asshole._ Kenny had to hold back his snicker when his companion flashed one of his own right back.

“And whatever my friend here wants!” Tweek strode past him to wait by the pick-up area, leaning obnoxiously with his skinny elbows on the hand-off counter.

“Uh, just gimme a coffee,” Kenny said with a shrug. “Small.” He was so, so fucking glad that this place did _not_ include all those stupid stylized names, like “tall”. Not that he drank a lot of coffee or anything, but he distinctly remembered that being the fucking annoying part about Harbucks.

“That’ll be $7.98,” the cashier said. Kenny frowned slightly. Maybe she was new. Either way, this did not bode well for them.

“Uh…” Kenny scratched the back of his neck and then waved his hand in Tweek’s direction. “Hey. _Hey._ Hello.” When Tweek caught his eye, he motioned him over.

“I’m trying to watch them make my drink,” Tweek said when he headed back over, like this wasn’t already incredibly fucking obvious. When he spotted the total on the register, he smiled brightly again, just like before. “Oh, we don’t… we don't pay here!”

“Excuse me?” the cashier barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, we d—”

“Medium dulce de leche,” called the barista at the counter. Tweek fidgeted nervously with his hands and then walked over, snatched up his drink and immediately took a slurp from it.

“Sweet Jesus,” he said, lowering it with widened eyes. “Did— you made this with soy, right?”

“Oh,” said the barista, looking embarrassed. “I—”

“I’m _lactose intolerant,_ ” Tweek spat at him. “If I shit all over myself, _you’re_ gonna be the one who replaces my underpants, man!”

“Tweek…” Kenny snorted, then pressed his face into his hand. He couldn’t help it. He was supposed to be the grown-up here, or something along those lines, since Tweek _still_ hadn’t learned how to _not_ act like a fucking child sometimes; but it was pretty damn hilarious, too.

“I’ll remake it,” the barista said nervously. “Uh, sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re _gonna_ be, prick!”

“Yeah, uh,” Kenny scratched the back of his neck again. “Sorry,” he apologized to the girl behind the register. “He’s kinda, uh. His dad owns this joint. Like, _all_ of it.” He waved his hand, in hopes of conveying that he meant  _the whole fucking company._  The last sentence came through on a laugh, like it was a funny joke that nobody seemed to grasp what was truly going on there. If anything was the funny joke, though, it was the fact that he  _hated_ getting coffee with Tweek for this very reason—and yet he endured his bullshit anyway, just because it meant he got it for free, too.

“ _Oh._ ” She looked surprised, and barely had time to void out the transaction before Tweek stomped past her. "Oh, shit.  _Um—!_ " She raised her voice, trying to cut in through the brewing argument between her coworker and this odd, disheveled millennial with an entitlement complex whom she just learned was the CEO's insufferable son.

“I _will_ come back there and make it myself!” Tweek was shouting. “You’re fired!”

“ _What?!_ I’m calling the police! You can’t just come back here, you crazy fucking nutjob!”

“ _Uhhhhh,_ ” the girl hurriedly rushed over to the barista and hissed something to him. Kenny watched as his jaw dropped.

“ _Oh_ -kay,” Kenny sighed. It was definitely going to be one of those days. He pulled out his phone in the meanwhile and fired off a text to Bebe.

— _s_ _till on for tonite?_

— _yea but dont leave ur shit here again plz?_

It was peppered with emojis, though, so he knew she wasn’t seriously pissed. That ‘shit’ wasn’t even his, and he knew that she knew it, too. It belonged to his stupid spoiled whore of a best friend who was currently reading the riot act to his lowly serfs for not Knowing Who I Am, like he was a goddamn celebrity or something. When Tweek emerged with a cup in each hand, the barista was hanging up his _Tweek Bros._ apron, clearly fighting back tears. Kenny clapped Tweek on the shoulder.

“Thanks, pal,” he said. “Now go tell that kid he isn’t actually fired.”

“ _What?_ ” Tweek was genuinely shocked by this. “Why would I do that? He _is_ fucking fired!”

“No, Tweek,” Kenny said gently, like he was talking to a five year old. Craig talked to him like this sometimes, too, though Kenny didn’t know anymore who picked up the habit from whom. “You’re being an entitled twat and I’m getting kind of embarrassed to be associated with you right now.”

Tweek threw his empty hand up once Kenny retrieved his coffee, and _sighed_ like this brought the weight of the world down upon his weary back. “ _Okay,_ ” he said loudly with a begrudging roll of the eyes, not even turning around to face them. “You’re not really fired! Just don’t make that mistake again!” He lifted his bony shoulders in a shrug. “Happy now?”

“Yep,” said Kenny, offering up a wave and a grimacing, apologetic smile in the employees’ direction before the two of them headed out together. Tweek was normally a sweet person with a gentle heart, really, but he got into these weird fucking _moods_ sometimes and then he’d treat everyone around him like shit he scraped off his shoe. Kenny was impervious to it, and he suspected Craig was learning to deal with it, too—they were still together, after all, so he must have been. Tweek couldn’t even grow armour against himself, so how could anyone else?

“Sorry,” said Tweek as they got into Kenny’s beat-up car, looking a bit crushed, like the events of what just transpired had suddenly hit him. “I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I should go back there and tell that kid I’m sorry. Oh Jesus, I’m a terrible fucking person! What’s _wrong_ with me?” He set the cup down in his cup holder and covered his face with his hands. It was definitely going to be one of those days. Evenings, truly, since it was coming up on sundown. Kenny patted him on the back.

“No you’re not, c’mon,” he said, and started up the car, pulling away from the curb. “You’re just stressed. We’ll get some sugar soon, y’know?”

“I’m fiending so fucking bad, I can feel it,” Tweek whimpered. His whole body was shaking. Kenny ruffled his hair.

“You know I still love ya,” he offered. “You’re my favourite.”

“I love you too,” Tweek said, and sniffled. When they came upon a stoplight, Kenny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Tweek promptly grabbed him by the chin and mashed their lips together, licking at him. Kenny chuckled into his mouth.

“All right, all right,” he said. “I wanna mack too, but we’re driving right now.”

“That doesn’t really, it doesn’t really stop us,” Tweek said, reaching to grope Kenny through his jeans. Kenny ran his hand along his friend’s knuckles. It felt good, but with it came the clench of guilt in his belly, and he caught Tweek by the wrist.

“Nope,” he said, extracting him. “Be good.” It wasn’t like they _fucked,_ he told himself, always. They just fooled around sometimes. It never got past having each other’s dicks in their mouths, and not even at the same time. But it would still wreck Craig if he knew, even with the stipulation that they meant nothing to each other. His name even fell from Tweek’s lips sometimes as he came, and he never uttered anyone else’s, especially not Kenny’s, god no. It was hot to be used like that, but Craig just wouldn’t understand.

He tried to be considerate, though. He wouldn’t even let Tweek sit on his face.

“Oh my god,” Bebe said when they arrived at her house. “You guys got fucking coffee and didn’t even bring me any?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” said Kenny, leaning to press a kiss to her cheek. “I could run back out if you want.”

“Nah,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s too late for that shit anyway.”

“Can we stop fucking around,” Tweek said urgently. “I gotta, ah, fuck. _Ngh,_ I just—”

“I getcha,” Bebe said, and motioned for them to follow, down into her basement. That was essentially where she lived, and commuted to school; her mother was too stupid to know what kind of weird shit went on down there. Kenny suspected she wouldn’t give much of a shit even if she _did_ know. “You guys need to find somewhere else to stash this shit,” Bebe stated as Tweek retrieved his supplies.

“Why,” Tweek asked, looking like she’d just kicked him in the face.

Wrong answer. Kenny waved his hands. “No, Tweek,” he said. “It’s cool, babe.”

“Well,” Bebe faltered for a second. “Maybe just one more time.” More guilt swirled in Kenny’s stomach. He really didn’t mind it, he’d probably just go hide it in his old garage or something. Bebe hugged him tightly and rested her head on his shoulder. Her breasts mashed up against his chest, and Kenny grinned.

“God I love your titties,” he said, and kissed all over her neck while she giggled. Tweek was lighting up on the bed behind them.

“I wanna watch him shotgun you,” she said in a sultry tone. Kenny licked his lips. He was more in the mood to play with her than him, but he did what he was told, and crawled over onto the bed. They sealed their mouths together and Tweek breathed into him, then they lapped at each other’s tongues for a minute. “Fuck that’s so hot,” Bebe breathed from over there. He didn’t want her over there. He wanted her over _here._

“C’mere,” Kenny said, outstretching an arm. Bebe waved him off.

“You know I don’t mess with that shit.”

“Not like that,” Kenny sighed. When the cloud dissipated he went over to her and kissed her.

“Someone has to be the mommy here, right?” she whispered, a smile playing about her eyes. Kenny bit at her bottom lip and she moaned.

“I don’t want you to be my mommy,” said Kenny. “I don’t do this shit with my momma.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bebe laughed. “I kinda want to watch him suck your dick again. That was so hot.”

“I’m not really in the mood,” Tweek said from the bed. He was sprawled out over it, eyes lidded, tapping on his phone. The pipe sat to one side. “And stop talking about me like I’m not right fucking here.”

“Shit,” Kenny muttered, but he didn’t really know why. He kissed Bebe on the forehead, because she looked disappointed. He wasn’t, not really. Her phone beeped at her, and she reached down to pull it out.

“Fuck,” she said after a minute. “I got called into work.”

“Why can’t you just tell them ‘no’?” Kenny didn’t want her to go. They just got here.

“I need the money. It’s just for a few hours.” She kissed him quickly on the lips. “Walk me out?”

Kenny was happy to oblige. He took her hand and they walked upstairs to the front door. “Sorry about,” and he craned his head toward the basement entrance. Tweek had the uncanny ability to pick up on his name, even if it was uttered all the way upstairs.

“It’s fine,” Bebe said. She was too fucking good for him sometimes. Kenny caught her face in his hands and kissed her, deeply this time, deep and slow. “We’ll work on your project when I get back,” she said once they parted. “I promise.”

“Love you,” said Kenny, and he watched her leave, all the way until her car pulled out of the driveway. Then he went back downstairs. Tweek had his shirt off at that point, and he was lighting up again.

“I wanna suck you off,” he immediately said.

“Thought you weren’t in the mood.” Kenny watched him exhale through his nose, like a dragon, and Tweek snapped a picture of himself. Then he set the phone aside entirely, and gave a languid stretch. He was pretty fucking beautiful, even on his off days. Beautiful in that tragic way that Kenny tried to be when he was younger, but he grew out of it. He could easily see why Craig was such a little bitch for him.

“Not to be watched,” said Tweek, crawling toward him. “Not by her.” He reached over and unzipped Kenny’s jeans, fondling him through his briefs. Kenny drew closer, until he was at the edge of the bed.

“Be nice,” said Kenny, watching as Tweek nuzzled at him, then peered up at him with those large sad eyes of his. Craig might’ve folded under them, but not him. “She doesn’t have to let you feed your fucking habit in her damn basement, y’know. So don’t act so goddamn selfish.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Tweek protested, shaking. But he still reached in and pulled out Kenny’s dick, which had gotten half-hard. “I don’t want to be watched!”

“I’m not.” Kenny patted him on the head. “I know. You don’t have to. I meant in general.” Tweek was licking at the head of his dick. “I meant in general, _mmm,_ be nice. Oh yeah, that’s good.” He sighed, dragging his fingers through his friend’s golden hair, over and over. Tweek nursed from him greedily, and he bucked his hips forward, feeling a flash of guilt when Tweek gurgled around him.

But he didn’t stop.

Kenny didn’t normally make a lot of noise. But it always felt so damn good when Tweek deep-throated him, and he gasped, a hand braced against the bed when his knees threatened to buckle. He rested his other hand on the back of Tweek’s neck, and rocked forward, goaded on by Tweek’s little whines and hums until he came on his tongue. Naturally, Tweek swallowed, and pulled back to wipe the back of his wrist over his lips.

“Thanks,” Kenny mumbled, still a little breathless. As a courtesy, he reached out for Tweek, but Tweek slapped his hand away.

It was one of those evenings.

Kenny shrugged and went for his backpack. “I think I’m gonna get started on my homework,” he said. “Bebe’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Tweek replied. “I’m gonna jerk off.”

“You do that.” Kenny stretched out beside him on his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Tweek draw his dick out; he wasn't even wearing underpants in the first place, the soy-guzzling little bastard. Kenny skimmed through his design notes. The bed rocked gently beneath the movements at his side, accompanied by the broken sounds of Tweek’s rapid-fire breathing and the faint slaps of his hand. It wasn’t distracting, strangely enough. It lent a strange sort of ambience to the room, honestly, and if Kenny hadn’t just inhaled his addictive kisses, it almost could have lulled him to sleep.

“Oh, _god,_ ” Tweek moaned beside him, and sighed in that way that told Kenny he'd just found release. “ _Nnnn, Craig..._ ”

Kenny rolled his eyes.


	4. It's Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GARBAGE IN, GARBAGE OUT. Problematic faves.

**boofit420  
** hey

 **tweeker-nation  
** yo  
im pretty fucked up

 **boofit420  
** same

 

It had been going on for nearly two weeks at that point. Craig was in deep, and he hated himself for it. But he also couldn’t stop himself. This was a side of Tweek he’d never witnessed the likes of before, and he was finding himself as fascinated by it as he was repulsed. “Addiction” was too hefty a label to slap on this morbid curiosity that wouldn’t quit, but it was certainly edging to something close to that.

He knew this would come to a head eventually; most lies did. Craig was not a liar, not like Tweek. It was not something he was used to. It was a good thing this guy he was pretending to be had pictures that dated pretty far back, because he had a trove of them to put to use. Tweek didn’t seem to be the wiser.

And that made him feel sick to his stomach.

Craig almost came clean one night. He was _so_ fucking close; he had it all planned out. Arrange a little meetup in person, and show up, and it’d be _him_ instead of some other junkie whore, and Tweek would flip out. He’d flip out, but Craig would be there to hold him, and promise, _promise_ he wouldn’t leave him on one condition: that he got help.

Unfortunately, that didn’t work out, because he didn’t give Tweek enough credit. And he was left trapped again. Trapped in his own guilt. Trapped in his newfound obsession with someone who didn’t know he wasn't a stranger. Trapped here, in this stupid fucking school with his stupid fucking assignments and he tried, he tried his best to keep up, and it was the only thing that let him.

 

 **boofit420  
** so u ever meet up  
ur so hot i want ur dick  
the real thing lol

 **tweeker-nation  
** no sry  
ur cute but i have a bf

 **boofit420  
** o right the other guy?

 

(Kenny occasionally made appearances in Tweek’s photographs. They did nothing but sit side by side, Kenny almost always grinning, but sometimes Tweek’s hand would rest on his. Or he’d lean up against Kenny’s shoulder. This wasn’t exactly wrong in and of itself, but the fact that it was part of Tweek’s secret Tumblr-whore life made the whole thing that much more slimy.)

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** no  
he doesnt use

 **boofit420  
** oh

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea

 

(It took Craig a long time to reply after that. He was frozen. In his mind, the jig was up. He was officially a piece of shit. Many things were typed out and erased.

~~_Tweek, I can’t lie to you anymore. It’s me. I’m sorry._ ~~

~~_I thought the worst of you. You deserve to know the truth._ ~~

~~_All I wanted was for you to be honest with me._ ~~

~~_I’m sorry. It’s me._ ~~

~~_I'm so sorry. I've been lying to you this whole time._ ~~

~~_I’m sorry. It’s me._ ~~

He almost wished Tweek _was_ cheating on him. That would make this all so much easier.)

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** he doesnt kno

 **boofit420  
** shit rly?

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea he knew i did sometimes  
like if i had to pull an all night  
but none of this

 **boofit420  
** o i see

 **tweeker-nation  
** i love him so much but i fuckin hate him sometimes too you know?  
like he makes me want to fuckin die  
but id die for him too  
it’s weird lol

 **boofit420  
** why

 **tweeker-nation  
** he doesnt rly love me  
i mean ok mabye he does but  
idk i think he doesnt its just sex for him i guess???  
hes good to me to and supports me but then he treats me like im a fcking child and doesnt respect me at all im pretty fucked up but im still an adult and he cant tell me wha to do  
i always want to kill myself when we fight and hes so nice to me when he calms down and i hateit like why even be with me??/ im fuckin crazy and treat him like shit when hes good to me  
i think hes the only person whos ever loved me  
if he even does idk anymore  
my dad like beat me and shit and said weird things and my mom just gives me money so i shut up  
then i spend it on makig clouds anyway lol  
i tell her its for art supplies  
sometimes it is but lol not all the time

 **boofit420  
** wow

 **tweeker-nation  
** lol  
sry  
im spun as shit  
ok lasttime me and my bf got in a fight it was bcuz he didnt likeme staying up for three nights in a row  
it was bcuz i was fucked up but he didnt know that…...i think  
anywa he called me a petty child bcuz its better thn sleeping all the time and at least i goto class  
thats what i said  
ans like the dorm here u have to scan ur id card and i dont liek it they know where i am at all times im NOT A CHILD??? they had this guy outside and i looked out it wa s like 2am he was standing there in the middle of the grass just staring up at my window  
i never seen him before  
and the fucking like cable dish is near my window too idk  
it scared the fucking shit out of me  
AND HE SAID I MADE THE WHOLE THING UP  
my bf i mean

 

That conversation had been three days ago. They’d messaged sporadically since then, but Craig felt a new layer of unease with the whole thing. It wasn’t that Tweek never said any of these things to him, because he did. It wasn’t that he was rambling them at a stranger, either. Craig had always thought them to be a byproduct of his other issues, maybe the occasional lashing out when he self-medicated, but this brought a whole new dimension of complication to everything.

“You wrap so perfect around my dick.” The rasp at his ear brought Craig out of his guilty reminiscence and into reality again. They were in his room this time, because Kyle went to visit his folks for the weekend. He and Stan had apparently gotten into another bad fight and he needed to get away. Craig was fairly indifferent to them both, though he might have had a shred more sympathy for Kyle, since it was clear that he had to juggle his boyfriend’s issues too. They had that in common, though they never really talked about it.

He pushed his forehead into the pillow beneath him, bringing up the rest of his face so he could breathe again. “Yeah,” he grunted out, sort of noncommittal. He felt Tweek’s tongue brush along his shoulder and then he sank in his teeth, making him groan aloud.

“Who’re you thinking about?”

“What,” Craig gasped. He hadn’t been asked anything like that before.

“I said,” and Tweek reached down to cup his balls, squeezing them, not hard, but something about his grasp said that it could be. “Who are you _thinking_ about!”

“You!” Craig grimaced, jerking his hips away. It wasn’t even a lie. “You, Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Do you even want this?” Tweek grabbed his cheeks and spread them, driving the point home. Craig shuddered.

“Y-yeah,” he said. What the fuck was even going on? That wasn’t a lie, either. “Yeah I just, I got stuff on my mind.”

“Like what?” Tweek paused in his movements, and Craig glanced back over his shoulder to see him push his damp fringe away from his eyes. He was slick with sweat. It was going to be a long night, and now he knew why. “Do you wanna stop? We can stop if you want, you want me to stop? I’ll take it out now.”

“No, no,” Craig eased himself up, even though it meant pulling himself off Tweek’s dick after all, and turned around on his knees to face him. “No, just, here…” He caught Tweek’s face in his hands and kissed him, licked at his parted lips invitingly. Tweek bit at him back and he hissed.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled. “I love you, I love you. Get on your back.”

“I know,” Craig said, and did as he was told. “Love you too,” he added, remembering the conversation that he was not supposed to be privy to. _A stranger,_ he reminded himself. _You were a stranger._ He was full again, and he grunted, arching upward, legs tangled around his boyfriend’s skinny waist.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yeah, that’s good.” He bit into his neck. “ _Nnnngggod_ , I love fucking you, baby. You, you like feeling my cock? Like taking it?”

“Yeah,” Craig panted back at him.

“Love fucking you,” Tweek repeated, through his breaths. “Oh fuck yeah… fuck, I love your asshole…”

Craig’s dick twitched in response. Tweek always muttered weird things into his skin, and now he knew why, but he loved that, too. Sometimes he wondered if he could just get off from his dirty talk alone, though it had yet to happen. His hands scrabbled at Tweek's back, eyes rolling closed. “Yeah?” he urged.

“Yeah,” Tweek whispered back, a little shakily. “I could do this for hours.” It wasn’t even hyperbolic. He could. Craig knew why. “You’re perfect, so fucking perfect, I love fucking you, love your sweet hole, mmm…”

“So when…” Craig gasped. “When do I get to.”

“Get to what, baby?”

“When do I get to fuck you.” He had to say something to catch Tweek off-guard, too. It was only fair, the way he’d torn into him for getting too lost in thought. Tweek actually halted, his breathing hot and ragged, hands smoothing over Craig’s upper arms. Maybe he would stop entirely, and Craig immediately regretted opening his stupid mouth.

“You know I… I don’t like it,” Tweek panted out, as he started moving again, hips rolling fluidly against Craig’s body. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Craig…”

 _I thought you’ve never done it,_ thought Craig. _So how would you know?_ “I wouldn’t be like you are,” Craig found himself teasing. “I’d be gentle.”

“You want me to be gentle, Craig?” Tweek growled against his jaw. “You want me to be fuckin’ gentle?” He gripped him tight, and snarled, pushed Craig's legs up and fucking pounded up against his ass; it startled a strangled cry out of him. “How’s this? How’s this?”

“Fuck,” Craig choked out, clutching tight at his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, I’ll be gentle. I can be fuckin’ gentle. Look how gentle I am. Look how gentle it is.”

“Hard,” Craig panted as he spread his legs wider. “Fuck me. _Fuck me._ ” He was; he did, spurred on and on by those words. Craig clung to him for dear life.

“Wanna, _ahh,_ wanna feel it, wanna feel you… wanna feel you come,” Tweek was breathing his words out, against the current of their bodies. “C’mon baby, come around my… my dick, come, wanna feel it tight, get tight, just fuckin’ come, come around me.”

It was Craig’s turn to bite, another cry escaping him before he muffled it into Tweek’s shoulder, because Tweek had reached down between them and grabbed his dick in the midst of his rambling, jacked it slick with precum and sweat, and Craig came almost instantly. He felt Tweek shudder hard against him and he did that a lot, so he wasn’t sure if he actually came or not, but then he felt wetter and hotter on the inside, so clearly he did.

“Mmm,” Tweek nuzzled at his neck, his voice raspy. “We came together.” He was still hard, though.

Craig knew why.

“Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He was so, so fucking sweaty, and so was Tweek, and he was sticky between them. He watched as Tweek pulled out and eased down his body, licking the drops off his chest and then the smeared mess just above his navel. He almost asked how it tasted, but somewhere in between his brain and his mouth the words dissipated into thin air. Tweek kissed his forehead.

“Turn over,” he breathed.

“Ugh,” Craig groaned. “Oh, no. No, no.” He was exhausted; wasn’t he? Tweek licked his ear.

“Turn over, baby,” he whispered. “Gonna— I'm gonna slide back in, okay?” Craig felt a twinge in his groin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, popping a couple of his joints as he shifted, and turned onto his front. “Go slow,” he mumbled. “Just, go slow. I’m sore.”

“I will. _Nnnh._ ” Tweek stayed true to his word, at least in that instance, sinking deep inside. It felt warm and familiar, but Craig’s muscles were tender, and he found himself whimpering. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” said Craig. “Just sensitive.”

“Poor thing,” Tweek said, and kissed one of the places he’d bit into earlier. “I’m gonna get some more lube. Try to relax.” Craig didn’t look back at him, but he heard the little noises of it being squeezed out and then slathered all over Tweek’s dick, and he believed him. He believed in him when the movements became easier, too, the shallow little thrusts becoming long, slick glides. “There,” said Tweek, and Craig felt him spreading his cheeks again. “You’re so nice and open. Nice and ready.”

Tears brimmed behind Craig’s lashes, and he squeezed his eyes shut, even though he was pressed into the pillow anyway. “Oh, god,” he choked out. He _was_ getting the gentle that had been taunted between them, the gentle that fucked him mercilessly in the first place was now stimulating him relentlessly, but so sweetly.

“How is it?”

“It’s… it’s good.” He was breaking down. He could feel it. A sob escaped him, and then another, the pillows weren’t even enough to quiet them. “It’s so fucking good, oh god, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, yes, baby. Yes…” He was being embraced, and kissed, Tweek’s mouth on his ear. “Yes,” he practically purred at him. “Oh, I love it when you cry.” His hand pressed into the fabric of the pillow to tenderly cup Craig’s cheek. “Let me see your face, baby. Oh, yes…” Craig sniffled as he felt Tweek nuzzle against his cheek, then his tongue followed.

He couldn’t help but wonder if all of Tweek’s weird little quirks were just because he was high every single time they fucked, he didn’t know him at all anymore, and he wasn’t the stranger after all. Tweek was. This brought on a fresh wave of tears, and he swallowed back the noise in his throat, tipping his head forward.

“Don’t hide your face,” Tweek whispered. “I love you, let me see you.”

“Fuck you,” Craig grumbled, lifting a hand to scrub at his eyes. But there wasn’t any bitterness in his tone. Tweek hugged him tight and kissed his tears away. _You don’t even know what you’re doing,_ Craig thought. He lightly pushed back against him and moaned openly when Tweek dragged himself all the way out.

“Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, holding Craig’s cheeks apart. “ _Nnn,_ I’m dripping out, all over you.” Craig felt the head of his dick push against the mess of lube and cum, against the softened muscle of his hole, and smear it up and down his crack. It was dirty and disgusting and he loved it. He forced himself up on his knees and Tweek hugged him again, pressing back into him from behind.

“I do love you,” Craig said quietly, his voice still thick with tears. He didn’t think about the implications of that ‘do’ until it was too late, and then he remembered, Tweek usually threw it back in his face anyway. He didn’t incriminate a damn thing.

“I know you do,” Tweek said into his shoulder, the desperation in his voice building with each sway of his hips. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.” Whether that part was on purpose, Craig didn’t know. “I treat you like shit and I’m so fucking sorry.”

“No you don’t.” Craig dragged his fingertips through Tweek's hair, and leaned back to kiss him. Because he did. He did, but Craig loved him anyway.


	5. Dreaming Like Gatsby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments thus far. I'm glad I'm not the only person who eats this shit up like Taco Bell.

It was a good thing that multiple _Tweek Bros._ locations existed in town. Tweek and Kenny were both in the mood for a pick-me-up, but after obtaining the names and schedules of both the employees that Tweek had harassed on the campus location a few days ago, he discovered—much to his chagrin—that the female barista was working that evening. So it was downtown they went.

Tweek stared out the window, watching the buildings roll by, the people, joggers and people walking their dogs and couples holding hands. It was like slipping through a living painting. Some people seemed to think the world operated around them like a TV show, but for him, he was in a dimension even beyond that. The observer. The glass wasn’t a screen that offered glimpses into people’s lives, because they were just living art on the street, like mannequins. He was mesmerized anyway, his eyes going unfocused until they really were just blobs of colour everywhere, like watching a lava lamp slip and slosh around.

Kenny was saying something. His voice sounded like he was underwater. Tweek turned his head to stare at him. “What?”

“You sure?” he was asking. At first Tweek felt a twinge of embarrassment, because maybe he was on the phone, but no, he was looking right at him. His hands twitched in his lap.

“No?” he replied, even though he didn’t understand the question. Kenny reached out and patted him on the head. Tweek wrinkled his nose.

“I know it was last night,” Kenny said. “Just making sure.” And then Tweek knew what he meant. He stared down at his hands. They would not stop.

“I’m still wide awake,” he said. They’d gotten some good shit last time. Pure crystal, not that disgusting backwater crap that small-town bums cooked in their backyard. But Kenny was right. He needed more, if he skipped tonight he’d be heading straight for a crash, and there was too much shit to get done before Wednesday morning. Tuesdays and Thursdays were his days off, but he had way too much shit to get done. He could sleep in tomorrow, but he had way too much shit to get done …

They made sure to get something for Bebe this time. “I can’t read this shit, it’s in a fucking foreign language,” Kenny had said, shoving his phone in Tweek’s face. Of course Kenny’s girlfriend would want a fucking pumpkin spice latte made with skim milk but whipped cream on top. Of _course._ And they weren’t called “tall” at their shops, it was just “small”, because they weren’t stupid like _Harbucks._ Tweek merely nodded and kept his commentary to himself. “Gonna remember that?” Kenny asked, and then laughed when Tweek shot him a _look._

“Please don’t forget the soy,” Tweek said meekly when placing his order. He didn’t even want to deal with people or make stupid conversation today, which would be inevitable if he tried to throw his clout around for free drinks, so he just sucked it up and paid. Call it one of the many payments on his karmic debt to the Universe. He even left something in their tip jar, another thing he’d insisted on implementing. When he laboured intensely under his worthless father’s nose, Richard would always keep the tips for himself. Tweek did not want to see that happen with anyone else.

“You remembered!” Bebe exclaimed when they walked up to her house and Kenny offered up the drink. She hugged them both and planted a kiss on Tweek’s forehead. Tweek offered up a strained smile and squirmed out of her grip. She left gloss there. He scrubbed it off with the side of his hand. The two of them went down to the basement and Tweek followed, gaze held firmly on their joined hands, stirring up a deep-set ache in his chest.

Bebe didn’t use. Kenny did. Bebe didn’t care, and she loved him anyway.

That would not be the case with Craig.

They got situated down there, though Tweek opted not to sit on the bed this time, since the two of them made a dive for it first. He snatched one of the pillows and sat cross-legged on the floor after retrieving his stuff. Bebe and Kenny were already fooling around, Bebe playfully pushing him down and crawling on top of him. He rubbed his face against her tits and she laughed long and loud like she was drunk.

She wasn’t, though.

Gross.

Tweek took a deep hit and closed his eyes. He tried to pretend it was like the good old days, when he and Craig would smoke on his bed and lazily kiss, like the stupid lovesick teenagers they were. They were only addicted to each other, though, because it wasn’t this hellish crap that dictated Tweek’s schedules and doled out his reality in careful doses. It was just the leaves, sweet wholesome leaves, and the smell of them was in this room, too—but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t the same.

He opened his eyes, just barely, and blew out for his phone camera. It was everywhere, fogging up his sight, even obscuring the increasingly lewd acts in front of him for a moment. Euphoria crawled from the roots of his hair all the way down to his toes and he felt it in his dick, too, and through his balls, his ass, and it _really_ made him pine for the good old days then. Because lovesick teenagers usually didn’t just kiss, and neither did they.

He posted the picture to his Tumblr and wrote beneath it, _i reminisce too much and im lonely again._ He contemplated adding _dm me,_ too, but he really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone play around.

“Any _daddies_ tonight?” Kenny teased him from the bed. Bebe was lying across his lap. They were both still fully dressed, but Tweek had a feeling they wouldn’t be, soon.

“I just posted,” Tweek answered. “I’m not really in the mood anyway.”

“Come sit with us,” Bebe cooed, and patted the bed beside them. Tweek quickly shook his head, his brow furrowed, gaze rapt on his phone’s screen even though he had nothing to watch out for. “Do you mind if we fuck?”

“Babe,” Kenny said with a laugh, and Tweek heard the smack of lips. “She has a thing,” he informed Tweek, as if Tweek didn’t know already.

“I don’t _care,_ ” he answered back, irritation seeping into his voice. They didn’t answer him, but he heard them shifting around, whispering to each other with the rustle of clothing and the soft sounds of skin. He thought of Craig again. He was already hard, and it was just making things worse. Even with the brightness filling him, he still felt the pangs of loneliness. The strength that would follow after, hopefully it would take care of that.

Kenny was up on his knees, and Bebe was blowing him. She’d stripped down to her underwear and pulled down his jeans. Objectively, Tweek supposed, she was probably the ideal woman: blond, cheerful, curvaceous and deceptively smart. She also had a big ass, which stuck out as she eagerly sucked her boyfriend’s dick. None of this did anything for Tweek, though, who knew he was also a walking blond cliche: the gay twink kind.

“I’m gonna jack off,” Tweek decided to announce, reaching into his pants and rubbing a hand over himself. When both of them looked over, he said quickly, “Just so— so you don’t think it’s ‘cause of you! It’s not!”

“Sure you don’t want to join us?” Kenny said, with a lazy smile and a quirked eyebrow. He _was_ pretty attractive. Almost inhumanly so. Tweek would have gladly sucked his cock if they were alone, but he had no interest in piling on with Bebe Stevens.

“Please!” Bebe chimed in. “I love watching you guys together.”

“No.” Tweek’s fingers curled around himself, but he didn’t want to start playing with himself until they were re-absorbed in each other. It was awkward to have them stare.

“Well, if you change your mind,” Kenny offered, “just come over here. Don’t even gotta ask.” They rearranged each other and stripped all the way and then they were fucking missionary style. Plain, traditional missionary style. Tweek thought he knew them better than that.

Even if it was one of _his_ favourite positions, personally, because he could look into Craig’s eyes and see how much he was breaking apart. But there was a glaring difference between gay missionary and straight missionary, because being gay wasn’t traditional in the first place. He reached into his backpack for the little tube he always carried around—just in case—and squeezed some into his hand, rubbing it along himself. He sighed and closed his eyes, thought of Craig. Craig, with his body bent beneath him. He’d fucked him good over the weekend, Friday night into Saturday morning, chafing the fuck out of himself and leaving Craig sore but it was worth it. Craig even said it was, too.

He sifted through memories with his eyes closed, and tried to let the lingering smell of weed in Bebe’s basement carry him away. The moonlight that sifted in through his window. The way he could see Craig’s eyes, even in the darkness. How malleable he felt beneath him, _around_ him. Words could never be enough to describe how deep his love and desire for him ran, so he’d try to convey it through touch instead. It was so much easier back then.

They had way more barriers now. Time, effort, stress, people, _secrets._

His phone buzzed at him. Tweek’s body gave a full jerk as he opened his eyes. He was still rock-hard and leaking between his fingers, and it felt like he’d been stroking for hours, though the clock told him it’d barely been one. That was still a lot of time. He bit his lip, felt his heart soar against the pain that the creaking bed and voices—Christ, their _voices,_ didn’t they ever shut up?—but it wasn’t Craig. Of course it wasn’t Craig. Just some guy on Tumblr that he’d been talking to.

“Kenny,” Tweek said loudly. Kenny grunted at him. “We gotta go.”

“Huh?” Out of the corner of Tweek’s eye, he saw Kenny pat Bebe’s flank, and she stilled on him. Somewhere in there they’d switched and she was reverse-cowgirling him. Well, good for her. “Why,” Kenny asked, a little breathless.

“Because it’s almost 10! I got shit to do, man!”

“You’ll be fine.” Kenny waved his hand for her to start moving again. “Don’t worry. Ah, fuck, yeah… hey, c’mon up here, you’re fuckin’ cute. C’mere and I’ll suck your dick.”

Tweek ignored him. Anyone else and it would have been creepy, but Kenny had free license to talk to him that way. It just didn’t always work.

 **tweeker-nation  
** wat do u want

 **boofit420  
** idk maybe u  
jk

 

Tweek rolled his eyes. The guy had made him uneasy when he asked to meet up a few days ago, and Tweek thought he made the message clear that he wasn’t interested, but he still clung on. Just like the others, except this guy wasn’t sending him money, or information. He was almost useless, but sometimes he’d help Tweek get off, and he didn’t seem to care when Tweek needed to vent.

So, that was a plus.

 **tweeker-nation  
** im jsut so fuckin pissed so sick of this SHIT  
i gotta go and my friends just dickin around  
LITERALLY  
i cant even nut i cant uuuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhhhh

 **boofit420  
** well that sucks

 **tweeker-nation  
** i HATE when im jsut sposed to SIT HERE AND DO NTOHIGN  
nothing  
im  
i wanna break something  
hoooolllyyyyyy shiiiiitttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

 **boofit420  
** so why cant u nut lol

 **tweeker-nation  
** BECASE IM GAY  
god i dont even wantto do this shit anymoer  
im in too deep  
i cant stop  
christ i mean look at this shit

(He attached a picture of his dick, hard and throbbing and uncomfortable, slick with lube and precum. Somehow the thought of another person, a stranger, looking at it made his balls tighten. Maybe he was becoming an exhibitionist too.)

 **tweeker-nation  
** THIS IS UR DICK ON METH  
dont do meth  
i mean i kno u alredy do but  
idk this sucks  I HATE THSI SHIT

**boofit420**

wow  
your so hard  
wish i could suck on it

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea im jackin again bc i just want it to go away lol  
wat ru doin

 **boofit420  
** jerking off too tbh  
ive been horny all day

 **tweeker-nation  
** maybe we can help eahc otuher out ;)  
each other  
i keep thinking bout the past

 **boofit420  
** yea i saw ur post  
what did it mean

 **tweeker-nation  
** my bf n i used to get high aalllllllllt he tiiimmmee and fuck  
it was so nice  
on weed not this shit  
i miss when i ddnt hae to be spun all the time like  
im always having to do shit like work on stuf 4 school AND help him study  
wtf is sleep sposed to look like? idk anymore lollll  
last time i fel aslep i was on a balcony lookin over the edge ata huge pool and no one could hear me  
it was scary but calm at the same time

 **boofit420  
** yea im sooo glad im not in college anymore  
u still jackin it? typing a lot lol  
tell me whats on your mind

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea i am  
idk im nt in th emood really bye

  
He said that, because Kenny was suddenly kneeling in front of him, buck-naked with a satisfied grin on his face. Tweek blinked up at him and, instinctively, looked over his shoulder. “Wh- where’s Bebe?” he asked.

“Left for work,” said Kenny, while petting his hair. “We can get going if you want.”

“ _Kenny,_ ” Tweek found himself whining, “I can’t come! It’s driving me fucking insane!” How long had it even been at this point? Who the fuck knew, anymore. His lids fluttered when Kenny traced a callused fingertip over his erection.

“Aw,” he said. “Poor little guy. C’mere.” He grabbed Tweek’s hips and pulled them close, and Tweek gasped, letting the phone drop out of his hands and thump to the floor. Kenny was already expertly slurping at the head of his dick and he let out a sharp cry, hands twisting in his sandy-blond hair.

“It’s, it’s so sensitive man, be careful,” he gasped out. Kenny dragged his wet tongue soothingly up and down him and Tweek heard himself mewl in his throat. He shoved a fist into his mouth and shook his head back and forth rapidly, though it didn’t really mean anything, because he wanted him to keep going. “ _Oh,_ ” he moaned, letting it fall out again after all. “Oh god!”

“ _Hmmm._ ” Kenny sounded like he was deep in thought whenever he sucked Tweek off. It was strangely hot, but maybe he was in that place where anything would be hot, at that point. He wrapped his hands around and squeezed Tweek’s ass through his jeans. Tweek bucked his hips forward. He didn’t feel as tingly as he did before, just _awake,_ and alert, and like his dick was a fucking weapon, spearing Kenny’s throat. He drew in and out of him in long thick stabs. Kenny was a fucking mastermind at deepthroating. It was a shame Bebe didn’t have a cock, because she would have appreciated it. She probably wasn’t as good as him.

“ _How_ are you so good at that!?” Tweek cried aloud. “Jesus, _ah,_ ah Jesus fuck, I’m so close already!” Kenny laughed at him, deep in his throat. Tweek could practically feel his voice reverberate off the head of his prick. He squealed, and felt himself crack. Kenny reached down and patted his balls gently. Tweek’s eyes rolled back in his head.

He thought about Craig again. Craig, at the pool underneath him, like some weird kind of party out of _Gatsby,_ because everyone who thought they were intellectual quoted _The Great Gatsby_ all the fucking time. It was almost as bad as Shakespeare. He called out Craig’s name over and over, but Craig wouldn’t look up once at him. Just stood there at the head of the pool, surrounded by clinking glasses, his suit so white and immaculate that it blinded him like when the sun would reflect off snow. Tweek brought a hand up and rubbed frantically at his eyes.

“Damn it, Craig,” he murmured. Kenny grunted up at him, questioning. “Nothing,” he said, and shifted his weight, arching into him. He was hovering on the edge and it felt so, so fucking _good_ like he wanted it to last forever. But he didn’t want to last forever with Kenny. Just Craig. “I wanna come,” he cried. “Make me come! _Ngh!_ Right fuckin’ _now!_ ”

“ _Mmmfgh._ ” It sounded like an affirmation. Kenny patted him again, on the butt this time, and pushed on it, like he was encouraging him. Tweek didn’t need encouragement, anyway. He would have fucked his mouth regardless. And he did, thrusting into him desperately until he erupted, and it kind of made his head explode too. His awful, wretched skull lolled uselessly back on his neck with no brains left as he choked and cried and ultimately spilled it all out, his jizz and his thoughts and all the sunlight on the water, right down Kenny’s throat.

Kenny grabbed Tweek’s half-drunk latte, yanked off the top, and spat it all out. His chin was wet with drool and cum. He wiped it with the back of his wrist.

“Ew,” said Tweek, feeling like his lungs were going to explode. Kenny hugged him tight and kissed him on the forehead.

“Let’s get going,” he said.


	6. In The Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight self harm in this chapter, just a warning.

**broodbush78  
** hey kitten  
wyd

 **tweeker-nation  
** hiiii  
nm just workin on a project u?

It hadn’t been a lie. Tweek set aside the half-carved bar of soap he’d been working on and carefully rubbed a knuckle into one of his eyes. It was nearly 2am and he could have used a distraction, since Craig had long since gone to bed—or so he claimed. Even now, surrounded by a pile of colourful scented sculptures that he didn’t even like all that much, Tweek craved him. He would have flung them all to the floor and bent Craig right over this desk if only he’d asked him.

If only he’d stopped by. 

 **broodbush78  
** kewl what kind of project

 **tweeker-nation  
** its a scale model of downtown mad entirely out of soap  
like im carving each one individual  
i havent slept in almost 2 days

 **broodbush78  
** ok  
so did u get my present

He didn’t even know why he bothered deluding himself into thinking this guy was interested in anything resembling conversation about his mundane life. Tweek held it all together and he had his pipe to thank him. It was remarkable that someone his age could live through what he had, ingest what he had, and still come out on top. He wasn’t like the others, and that made him stand out, like he was art, too. To some, that was all he was. A creature of fascination. An enigma.

An art piece.

He casually tugged at the wispy curls on the back of his neck. This guy, along with two others, sent him inspiration in the form of bribes and packages. They were not illicit. The present that “ **broodbush78** ” referred to was a pair of striped stockings in baby-blue, and a matching pair of frilly panties. Last time it was a pair of black leather chaps. When he donned them—and nothing else—and sent a picture of himself with his legs spread, his benefactor dropped $500 into his payment account. Tweek never wore them again.

He knew what was coming tonight, but decided to play coy anyway.

 **tweeker-nation  
** which one?  
daddy sends lots of presents~

 **broodbush78  
** kitten is being naughty on purpose

 **tweeker-nation  
** am i?

He stripped out of his clothing and pulled on the panties. They chafed against the sensitive skin around his groin, the crevices between it and his thighs, and stretched across his dick and balls even in their softened state. Tweek picked at the lace and frowned, but then he eased one of the stockings over a leg. He didn’t shave and even if the gold hair on his legs wasn’t entirely visible, they were not smooth nor feminine. But then again, he supposed, that must have been part of the appeal. He snapped a picture of his hand grazing along one thigh and sent it, then worked the thin fabric over his other leg while awaiting his reply. 

 **boofit420  
** hey

Tweek squinted down at his phone. What kind of response even _was_ that? “Hey”? But when he opened it he quickly realized, this was an entirely different conversation. An entirely different person. The guy that actually _did_ seem interested in his life. He scratched his head.

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi

 **boofit420  
** sup

 **tweeker-nation  
** nm im workin on a project no smoke tonite  & its a model of downtonw the city im in im making it entirely out ofsoap  
that sounds rly dumb but im doing a fuckin awesome job

 **boofit420  
** soap???

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea the stuff u clean ur balls with lmao??  
if u do  
anyway i was gonna do potatos but i thought this would last better  
and it smells nice ^-^

 **boofit420  
** lol  
thats pretty weird

 **tweeker-nation  
** i am wierd havent u notced  
im alredy startin to fiend but im tryin 2 ignore it  
the stuff i smoked lasts a while  
and gives me soooo much energy  
how r u did u stik anything up ur asstoday???  
lmao

 **boofit420  
** yeah i did  
not just drugs either  
ive been horny all day

Another notification popped up. _hello??_ it said. Tweek didn’t even realize his companion, one of the useful ones, had messaged him back.

 **broodbush78  
** there u go  
i knew it  
hello??

 **tweeker-nation  
** hehe  
sry was putting the rest on

 **broodbush78  
** show all of it  
spread ur legs

(He did.)

 **broodbush78  
** thats my boy  
do u like ur present

 **tweeker-nation  
** yeah!!  
thank u daddy

(He didn’t.)

 **broodbush78  
** now turn around  
so i can see ur ass

Tweek did as he was told. The lace was starting to chafe him something awful. He decided that if this guy—or any of the others he was stringing along as makeshift sugar daddies—sent him any more lacy garments, he would pretend they got lost in the mail.

A finger slipped past the waistband, and pulled it away from his body, revealing the top of his ass. He didn’t have much of one, truth be told. He was bony all over and it showed. It showed in his ribs and in his eyes and especially down below. But this wasn’t leisure and it wasn’t a place for him to get self-conscious about the ways his medication left him with extra corners. It was a job.

He couldn’t remain under his father’s blistering wing forever. He just couldn’t. It was already bad enough that he was throwing his status around like it was a badge of honor, when it should have brought him great shame. Tweek did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps.

He did not want to follow in his anything.

 **broodbush78  
** show me that pussy boy

 _Gross,_ thought Tweek. He tugged the panties down his thighs and spread his legs as wide he could, carefully reaching back one-handed to pull back one of his cheeks as he shot the picture. He took a few of them for good measure—some of them were blurred—and fired the best one off.

Then immediately deleted them all from his phone.

 **boofit420  
** woah

Fuck. _Fuck._  Why did their names have to be so goddamned similar? That rush was over him, consuming him; the zap in his brain that cracked over his whole body, made him cold. Ultimately, it shouldn’t have mattered. This guy had gotten plenty of pictures of his dick before.

They just weren’t accompanied with slutty clothing that Tweek would never, ever be caught dead in.

And this wasn’t his prick, it was his fucking asshole.

Tweek’s hands shook, tongue dry in his mouth as he fumbled around with the phone.

 **tweeker-nation  
** shit sry  
uhhh wrong person lol

 **boofit420  
** i dont care  
fuck thats hot

 **tweeker-nation  
** delete it lol

He saved it, sent it to the correct recipient, deleted it again. Then Tweek shut his eyes, even as he felt the phone buzz against his thigh, and _breathed._

 **broodbush78  
** yea thats my boy  
im jackin it now  
now i want 2 see u smoke in it  
legs spread wide

 **tweeker-nation  
** i cant smoke tonite  
sry daddy :(  
am i in trouble?

 _Shit._ He didn't want to talk anymore, let alone play around. The boofer was messaging him too, and their screen-names kept blurring in front of his gaze, not because he couldn’t see them, but because they were _too fucking alike_ and now the wrong person had a front-row seat to his lace-adorned anus. He buried his face in his pillow and screeched for a few seconds.

 **boofit420  
** wtf are u wearing tho lmao

 **tweeker-nation  
** its jsut something i do just fuckin delte it ok i dont want to talk about it  
just leae me alone

 

 **broodbush78  
** why cant u

 **tweeker-nation  
** BECAUSE ITS NOT UR FUCKIN BUSNESS

 **broodbush78  
** wtf???

 **tweeker-nation  
** fuuuck im so sorry daddy  
wrong person  
lol  
i cant msoke here im at my dorm

He’d gone and done it again, but this time in reverse, and it made him let his guard down. Something sharp panged against Tweek’s insides, and he felt his breath come quicker, his head spinning. He didn’t want any of these strangers to know he lived in a dorm. As it was, he had a P.O. box, and he only went to retrieve his mail with Kenny around, just in case. These people, these _strangers,_ they could research the campus he was on, and then come looking for him. It was bad enough when his father paid him surprise visits. He didn’t want to have to deal with fending off 40- and 50-year-old suitors who only knew him by his dick and his tendency to blow smoke. They only knew foggy versions of him, not the _real_ him.

He didn’t want them to. He didn’t, and through his own stupidity, he was showing too much. Showing his ass, and telling them where he lived. It was a miracle he hadn’t been found, caught, captured, ground up.

 _Get me out._ **_Get me out._ **

**boofit420  
** ok

 **tweeker-nation  
** dotn save it or anything fuck  
im freakign out  
i mean it dont that wastn 4 u

 **boofit420  
** jfc im not  
calm down

 **tweeker-nation  
** i cant breaht stop mesaging me  
JUST STOP

 

 **broodbush78  
** u college kids  
lol  
is someone bothering my kitten???

 **tweeker-nation  
** no daddy im ok  
sry i cant give u more

 **broodbush78  
** ok kitten but u only get half ur allowance tonite  
u get more later

 **tweeker-nation  
** thank u daddy

He immediately closed the app and threw his phone across the room. This wasn’t what he’d planned on. There wasn’t room tonight to have a panic attack; he hadn’t budgeted for it. Then again, he never really stuck to his attempts to budget time, anyway. Tweek tugged at his hair and clawed desperately at his sheets. He needed a distraction. Something to do with his hands. Something to do that wasn’t lewd, sick, _wrong._ He went over to the desk and picked up the miniature sculpture he'd been working on.

Even as he resumed his carvings with shaky fingers, Tweek’s brain was on high alert, cornered-prey mode, and he tried to grab onto a coherent thought as he whittled away. Sometimes what helped him was running inventory on his acquaintances. He always started with the ones who were closest to him, and fanned out, his fraying web of connections like a spiral. Kenny was spending the night at Bebe’s. They were probably fucking right at that very moment.

Craig was asleep in his dorm. Would he make it to class in the morning? Tweek would probably still be up, and he’d have to try and drag him out of bed. He was so mopey and heavy lately, and it was sad, but it was also really frustrating sometimes. If Tweek wasn’t around to take care of him, he probably would have already flunked out of school entirely.

Clyde was probably with his fraternity. It was around the time when things would start winding down. He was far too young to drink alcohol, but that never stopped him before. Eric was probably with him too. Sometimes they joked about roping Tweek in. He would rather drop dead. What the Hell was the point of a fraternity, anyway? Token would have been in bed by 11pm. He was smart. Jimmy would have turned in around 1am. He lived for open mic nights and his jokes had actually gotten funny. Tweek used to go see him, but life got too complicated, too rushed.

What layer was next? Kyle. Kyle, who was Craig’s roommate. Tweek didn’t hold much of an opinion on him. Craig didn’t like him, but that was probably because they were stuck living together, and since he studied a lot it was difficult to fuck in Craig’s dorm, so he’d have to come here. There were far worse inconveniences in the world. Stan, whom Kyle was dating, and Kenny hung around with him sometimes. He was handsome, but Tweek always did have a thing for dark hair and light eyes.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He’d nicked his thumb. It didn’t hurt, but it did startle him. Tweek popped it into his mouth and suckled, tasted blood on his tongue. He’d lost his train of thought; the circle had been broken. Would he have to start over? How many were left in his life, even on the fringes, to take stock? Did it even matter anymore?

Tweek didn’t feel much like starting over. He poked the knife against the pad of his thumb, where he’d split the skin, and dragged it down a little. Just a little, just a little more. Just a taste. Sometimes he thought about Craig like this, the places he could open up in him, and suck out the blood and marrow. It was love that sent him those thoughts, not out of some strange place inside him that yearned to destroy the things he cared for—but Craig wouldn’t get it. He would just call Tweek deranged or something, and dump him, and then Tweek really would tear into the skin and rip it all to shreds, but it would be his own.

Maybe he could use this part of him on the art. It would represent one of the broken places. Every downtown had at least one broken place. He fumbled around for one of the bars he’d recreated. One time he passed down that street, and two guys were shouting at each other, and he imagined what it’d look like if one of them smashed a bottle against the wall and stabbed him in the chest. Just like in the movies. But all they did was throw each other around, and then they kissed.

Was it true love? Tweek couldn’t tell. He smeared his thumb over the pale pink sculpture, and it left a little smear on the door. No one would come for them in the night, but he was still there.


	7. Cognitive Dissonance

Even if he did delete the image like he was supposed to, Craig knew he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head. It was seared there, permanently, every little detail. The plane of his back, tilted slightly to the side. The swirling, thick black lines of the tribal marking that stretched over the width of his lower back— _it’s ironic,_ Tweek had said when Craig balked at him getting such a ridiculous tramp stamp on his 18th birthday, _because I don’t bottom_ —the subtle curves of his bony ass. The scars on his forearm where it curved downward, the splay of his long fingers against his cheek, offering a better look as if the position he was in wasn’t already spreading him out on full display. The legs splayed out on the bed on either side of him, in stockings—fucking _stockings_ —striped stockings. Blue ones. Not a nice shade of blue, but pastel blue, and the panties matched, the fucking _panties._

Lacy panties. Lacy panties that stretched across and between his thighs, bridging the gap. They looked too small for him. The tops of his thighs and the golden little wisps there. The lewd glimpse it offered of his sack, dark pink and dusted with honey-coloured curls. Somehow, it was a meager comfort to know that Tweek hadn’t shaved himself for this. And all of it—the panties, the stockings, the tramp stamp, his hand—it framed the centerpiece, that puckered, pink, precious little hole as if it were begging to be filled. But Craig knew the truth.

Craig knew the truth and the whole thing was very strange and uncomfortable.

He bit his lip, twisting it in his teeth and hissing as he emptied that discomfort through his own fingers, coming onto his stomach in quick pulses.

Then he cleaned himself up and went to meet Tweek at the food court, and tried to remember that Tweek had not flipped shit at _him,_ but to a ghost of a person who no longer existed. Because he’d been accustomed to Tweek’s outbursts for quite some time, including through text, it was doing his head in a little.

“Hey dude.” Stan was sitting at their table next to Kenny, who had apparently decided to tag along. Craig offered up some kind of noncommittal noise in reply and went to get his goddamn Chipotle, because Tweek was already in line without him.

He stared at Tweek’s flat backside, as if he would magically inherent x-ray vision on the spot and be able to see through his jeans. Maybe he was wearing those panties at that very moment. Maybe he had on the stockings, too. Between where his pants ended and his boots began, Craig couldn’t tell. Something felt amiss and he raised his eyes to run them right smack into Tweek’s burning gaze.

Burning. He was pissed. Was he? No, that furrow in his brow was something else. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Opting to play it cool, Craig shrugged off the question. “Checking you out,” he said blandly, and made his way over to the ordering station. He heard Tweek snort behind him.

“I’ll save you a seat, tiger!” he yelled through the line. Craig knew without looking that he’d probably attracted a few stares. It was completely unnecessary.

When he got back, the three of them looked thick as thieves, chattering among themselves. Tweek had a habit of talking with his hands, and he was ramming his fists against the table, tapping it with his fingertips, spreading his fingers out. Kenny was snickering so hard that Craig could see it, those laughs in the back of his throat like they were secrets. Stan kept shaking his head.

“Craig!” Tweek blurted out excitedly, like he hadn’t seen Craig for months instead of just five minutes ago. When Craig sat down, he threw his skinny arms around his shoulders. “Guess what!”

“What,” Craig automatically replied before taking a bite of his burrito, and cast a glance in Kenny’s direction. There was nothing readable in his resting face, which was something that toed the edges between smugness and boredom. Tweek kissed Craig on the cheek.

“I’m getting a pet,” he hissed out in a conspiratorial whisper.

“What,” Craig said again, this time with feeling. Of course. Of course Tweek was due to make another crazy impulsive decision with absolutely no premeditation beforehand. A few months prior to this, he’d decided he wanted to build a powerful desktop computer for gaming _and_ digital art—neither of which were anything to him beyond hobbies he’d dabbled in. Tweek had dropped a few cool thousand on various top-end computer parts and spent many nights putting them together. Taking them apart. Blowing something out because he wasn’t precarious enough. Shocking the fuck out of himself and frying the motherboard when he forgot to unplug it.

When he’d finally gotten the damn thing up and running, he ran two, maybe three raids of _World of Warcraft;_ and then after a week of the screen sitting cold and black on his flimsy dorm desk, he sold it to some guy in one of his art courses. He actually managed to turn a profit, and insisted that this was his motive all along.

“It’s, it’s gonna be great, man. I have a plan. I am a _man_ with a _plan_ and Kenny’s totally on board too.”

“I didn’t exactly say that,” Kenny mused, propping his chin in hand.

“You can’t have pets in the dorms,” said Craig. He and Kenny exchanged a _look._ A look that said, _‘member the computer thing? ‘member when you tried to climb on the roof and remove the satellite dish? ‘member when you created a secret blog on Tumblr where you’d post naked selfies of yourself smoking meth and have cyber sex with anyone who pretended to listen to the weird shit in your head?_

Kenny didn’t know he knew, though, so perhaps that last one was all in his head, too.

“I _know that,_ Craig,” Tweek said hurriedly. “That’s why I have a plan. Did you not fucking hear the part when I said I had a plan?” He jerked his arm away from where it sat slung around Craig’s shoulders, like he was pissed at him, but then casually rested a hand on his thigh instead. Craig placed his hand on top of his.

“I heard you,” he said, no conviction whatsoever, and then reached for his burrito again. Time to ride out the disaster, and then he would shut it down, because at this rate Tweek was going to get himself expelled.

“Your plan’s stupid,” Stan finally chimed in.

“Shut the fuck up, Stanley,” Tweek snapped back. “Your room’s a fucking disaster, you have _no_ room to talk! _None!_ Anyway, I’m going to get an aquarium and if anyone asks I’ll just say it’s for art or fish or something. I-I think we’re allowed to have fish but that’s it. I can’t remember. And then I’m gonna get it, I dunno what I want yet, maybe a lizard or a guinea pig or something—”

“You can’t put guinea pigs in aquariums,” Craig said, a little more tersely than he’d wanted.

“I— I know, I know, okay?!” Tweek waved a hand in his face. “Just, just come on man, just hear me out, they let you bring pets in if they’re… i-if they’re emotional support animals, and I, well, you know. Cartman did it once, he brought in a cat, he kept Mr. Kitty until he finally died of old age and they _let him,_ because it was an emotional support animal!”

“Are you fucking serious.” Craig was rapidly losing his appetite. “Cartman took advantage of a program for people who genuinely need support, and accommodation for that support. And now you’re acting like it’s something to aspire to.”

“No, I’m _not!_ ” Tweek raised his voice, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair in frustration. “I… I actually _do_ need one, Craig, okay?! I’ve thought about this for a while, and—”

“You’re too busy, honey,” Craig said. “I fear for that poor creature’s life.”

“I didn’t know you were so _altruistic,_ Craig,” Tweek spat back at him. “Since when do you fucking care about _systems_ and fucking, like, checks and balances anyway?! You’re a fucking hypocrite. Fuck you. —Anyway,” he continued right on, “I just gotta fill out some paperwork, and, and talk to the psychiatrist or something. And then they’ll let me.”

“ _Dude._ ” Stan was agape. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tweek, what the fuck! You can’t do that, it’s more complicated than that! Are you _on_ something!? I think you’re on something, dude.”

“I am _not!_ ” Tweek shouted, and he reached over to grab Stan by the collar, whose eyes had gone wide. Dark blue. Craig hadn’t really paid attention before. “I’m not _on_ anything, you fucking _prick!_ You’re the fucking alcoholic, you have _no_ idea what you’re talking about, you’re a fucking hoarder-ass _slob_ —”

It was pretty obvious that he was. Craig felt the heat creep back over the nape of his neck when he thought of the little fiasco from last night. Either Tweek had smoked before this encounter, or he was still on edge from his mistake last night—lord only knew why. Craig made a mental note to check his Tumblr when he got back to his dorm. For the time being, though, it was damage control. It was always about fucking damage control. With his teeth grit and his eyes narrowed, like an irate parent pulling back their unruly child, his fingers locked around Tweek’s and he silently extricated Stan’s shirt from their vice-like grip.

Tweek collapsed into his seat again, face set in a deep scowl. Craig half-expected him to bemoan that all the _other_ meth addicts smuggled pets into _their_ dorms. The thought was startlingly funny, like an orgasm that shoots right through you out of nowhere, and he pitched forward with a loud snort.

“Are you laughing?” That was Kenny, who had just been sitting there watching this display unfold the entire time. There was mirth in his voice. Craig rapidly shook his head. He tried to refute it, but his words were strangled by another chortle that he struggled to keep contained, and he banged his fist on the table instead because it was futile. All of this was futile.

“Yes he is,” snapped Tweek. “Fuck this shit!” Craig heard the rustle of his backpack being snatched up, and then the telltale sound of his footsteps as he stormed away.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Stan was pouting as Craig lifted his head once more. Kenny patted him on the shoulder.

“Yes you are,” he said.

“Ugh.” Stan swiped a hand over his eyes. Was he fucking crying? No, they were dry. “Dude I know I have some old beer bottles around my bed, but, come on.”

Craig didn’t really give a shit either way about Stan or his stupid motherfucking problems. He tucked into his burrito again, and wondered if he was an asshole for not going after Tweek, but quickly remembered that Tweek was the asshole. Kenny crushed the box from his KFC meal and tossed it into the garbage can. It was really funny that Taco Bell had their combination schtick with KFC in a food court that was literally across the hall from a _Chipotle_ location. Did anybody even bother with the Taco Bell side of things?

“What’re you looking at,” Stan huffed. Craig swallowed the bite he was chewing.

“An alcoholic.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” The volume of Stan’s voice went up a notch. Kenny made a little pushing motion in the air with both of his hands.

“Nah, nah nah c’mon, it’s not worth it. I’ve met my quota for hysterics today. Please?”

Craig said nothing else. He had his tasty burrito to finish, and then probably a nice relieving dump to take afterwards. Why was he even still here? He didn’t like either of these assholes very much. And Kenny, the bastard, he _knew_ everything about Tweek and more, much more than Craig did. It made Craig’s stomach churn, even though Tweek was kind of the last person he wanted to be around right now.

His phone buzzed in his left ass pocket.

“Wow, I wonder who that could be,” Kenny mused with a weird kind of fond sarcasm, even though he and Craig were certainly _not_ friends and therefore it was extremely rude.

 _i hate you_ —Tweek had texted.

“Oh, no,” Craig found himself droning out loud. “Now he hates me.” Kenny snorted.

“Ugh.” Stan idly rubbed his nose and sniffed. “That guy is definitely on _something,_ dude. I don’t know why you even put up with that shit.”

“Put up with what shit.” Craig wasn’t sure why Stan’s comment had suddenly put him on the defensive, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even as they spoke, his phone buzzed repeatedly with all the ridiculous texts Tweek was blowing up. He only skimmed them as the notifications rolled over his screen.

— _you dont know a fuckin thing about me_

— _i fuckin need this for my SANITY_

— _i knew u wouldnt understand unever do_

— _and ur probably gona rat me out_

— _you BETER NOT FUCKING RAT ME OUT CRAIG_

“Okay,” Kenny said, rising to his feet. “Well this has been fun.”

“This shit, dude,” Stan said very seriously, ignoring Kenny as he gestured toward Craig’s phone. “Even when I like, drunk-text Kyle I don’t act like this.”

— _WHERE THE FUCK ARE u_

“Go fuck yourself,” said Craig, and he crumpled up the wrapper from his burrito into a tight silver ball before throwing it toward the nearby trash can. He missed. Of course he did. “Your relationship is garbage, and so you try to judge everyone else’s to make you feel better about yourself. Well, you don’t know anything, wino.”

“Wow,” said Stan. “I forget sometimes that nobody likes you.” He left with Kenny, neither of them with another word to say.

— _aswer me you SHIT_

It was unbelievable sometimes, the way other people liked to stick their noses where they weren’t wanted in the first place.

— _dont fuckin do this to me u know what it does_

— _please craig PLEASe_

 _Babe calm down it’s ok,_ he texted back. _Come over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we're clear, I intend no disrespect toward those with service/support animals! Nor do I intend to let this play out in a way that does. Tweek's just hopped up on goofballs and it will backfire on him.


	8. Forget-Me-Nots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because I'm a big gross pervert and enjoyed the mental image, I commissioned one of my favourite SP porn artists to draw the illicit butt selfie that is now in Craig's possession. I was blown away by the result. Perhaps you will be too.
> 
> (note: this is extremely NSFW)
> 
> http://buttsupreme.tumblr.com/post/173521562464/recent-commission-of-tweek-spreadin-em-for
> 
> Also, there is quite a bit of chat in this chapter, so it might look longer than it really is.

**boofit420  
** hey

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi

 **boofit420  
** still pissed at me

It was a little over a week since Tweek inadvertently sent Craig’s facade that selfie by mistake. They hadn’t talked since, up until now. Craig tried to convince himself it was an attempt to let everything blow over, and not something ridiculous like his nerves. Getting into an argument with Tweek through a different person shouldn’t have bothered him so much. After all, it wasn’t _him_ who Tweek was pissed at.

And yet it was. It certainly would be, if he were to find out the truth.

Every conversation, Craig wondered, would they pull him further away or _toward_ that truth?

 **tweeker-nation  
** uhhh i guess not  
i dont know u  
ur not anyone to me ur just some guy onine  
that sounds mean fuck  
u know what i meant rite???  
no it s fine rly i dont gve a shit

(He fired them all off so quick that Craig couldn’t get a response in. Tweek must have been at his computer.)

 **boofit420  
** its cool

 **tweeker-nation  
** i dont want to talk  
abt it  
im rly busy im jsut tryna chill but liek its so hard to concenrate lately  
i watn to kill everyone  
theyre so LOUD

 **boofit420  
** that sucks  
ttyl then

 **tweeker-nation  
** no i jsut meant about last itme  
that i dont want to discus it  
im having a bad time rn i hate  
everything  
eeryone

 **boofit420  
** why do you hate everyone

 **tweeker-nation  
** its like i go ouside and the noise doesnt stop  
i hear everone and they say stupid shit  
it stics to my brain and i have nowhere to put it  
yknow??

( _No,_ thought Craig. _I don’t know._ )

 **boofit420  
** like you hate crowds

 **tweeker-nation  
** no thats the fucked up part  
i like goign out  
i liek going places i hate staying by myself 4 too long  
bc then i cant shut t off  
and my dad has been caling a lot lately and maybet hats whats causng it  
i always feel exposed after that

 

Craig frowned, and felt himself sit up straighter. Tweek hadn’t told him about these phone calls. In fact, he talked about his father as little as possible. Craig knew their relationship was rocky, and Tweek’s father was basically human fucking walking garbage, but this was new. Not only was it new, but he’d spill it to a stranger, not to his boyfriend, apparently.

Did Kenny know about all this, too?

 **boofit420  
** didnt he like hit u or something

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea  
made weird threats  
he still does it  
he cant touch me here but he can stll do other things  
i dont know what to do sometimes  
i wish hed just die

 **boofit420  
** wow  
ur own dad?

 **tweeker-nation  
** yes  
im fuckin abuse dim allowed 2 wishhim dead  
hows ur life  
nice and perfect? so perfect u stck meth up ur ass  
shut the fuck up

 **boofit420  
** hey chill  
i meant ur own dad to do something to his son  
its terrible

 **tweeker-nation  
** im jk anyway  
i wish i could chill tho  
i really wish i could fuckin chill  
u ever stay up 2 days straight trying to dissect everyone?  
my dad im prety sure he calls my friends  
if they even ar my friends idk anymore  
he calls them and like feeds info hes probably paying them

 **boofit420  
** he feeds your friends info?

(It certainly wasn’t Craig who was in on this little scheme. And then Craig realized, it probably wasn’t anyone.)

 **tweeker-nation  
** no they do to hi  
him  
they keep tabs on where im at and  
report back  
he calls me and threatens a bunch of shit liek pulling me out of school  
im not good enough i shouldnt be wasting my time here i should be  
what hewants  
nvm im just sick of it all  
hes coming here next week and idk what todo  
maybe f i kill myself i can get awa from it

 **boofit420  
** dont do that

 **tweeker-nation  
** why not?  
im crazy anywya and everyone is sick of me lol  
i only feel good when im spun  
and even now i dont feel good anymore  
brb

 

Craig was left gaping at the screen in shock. His brain was stubborn, sluggish, gears scraping a few times in lockstep only to grind to a sad and choked halt.

When Tweek returned, he didn’t even say anything, just attached a picture of himself lying shirtless on the bed with smoke drifting out of his mouth and a sultry look on his face. It didn’t look quite right when Tweek made that expression in pictures. Craig knew what it actually looked like when he was ready for it, wanting, or maybe it was a special look reserved just for him. He might have believed that before, but he wasn’t really sure anymore.

Either way, it was just like when the smile wouldn’t reach someone’s eyes. In his smoking selfies, Tweek would pose and look up at the camera through his lashes, but the bedroom never quite reached his eyes.

 **tweeker-nation  
** now im good ;)  
wyd

 **boofit420  
** chillin like always  
ever wonder what itd be like to just stop

 **tweeker-nation  
** stop what  
?????????

 **boofit420  
** bad habits  
like this one

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea  
omg r u narc lol  
ok srsly u better not be a narc man  
jk

 **boofit420  
** no lol  
i wish  
im nobody without this shit its all i do anymore

 **tweeker-nation  
** i hate it honestly  
i dont want to be like this  
and then i do  
you know?  
like its all i know anymore

 **boofit420  
** how long have u been on it

(Craig realized then he was nervously gripping the sheets. He probably shouldn’t have asked that. It _was_ rather forward of him. Christ, he’d just fucked this all to Hell and back, hadn’t he? But …)

 **tweeker-nation  
** ummmmm since last summer?

(Craig didn’t know about that.)

i tried it in high school

(Craig did know that.)

and it wasnt worht it i guess idk  
it made me feel really fucked up after  
summer happened & then i had shit to do my dad wanted me to work my ass off b4 i left  
so it kept me alert and focused and  
then i went off to school  
hs didnt matter at all yknow? it just didnt matter  
but this does  
all of this does  
so im just doing it more and more now  
like im way more creative on it WAY MORE i actually feel like my head clears and i can put everything into it i dont hve to sit and struggle  
i was doing that a lot and sometimes i even wanted to scream it was so frustrating

( _Because you were crashing and repeating._ Any fool outside of Tweek’s skin could see that. Maybe even Tweek could, but he wouldn’t admit it aloud to another human being. He had too much pride for that, and apparently, had too much at stake. Enough at stake that he’d ramble off his life’s story to a stranger on the internet but not reveal these shades of himself to his fucking boyfriend.

He needed to get out of this conversation. He’d opened the box, and it would never be closed. He knew too much. He couldn’t go on like this.)

 **boofit420  
** damn  
ive been on it almost 10 years  
maybe its not too late

 **tweeker-nation  
** dot  
dont  
anyway i cant  
i see thngs as they really are  
i know the shit my friends pull  
i know that this instituton is a fuking joke and were all just cattle to them  
theyre fattening our brains up to eat us  
jesus fucking christ why am i even still here lol  
this is all just a game to my dad  
i hope they like their fuckin money i really do  
fucking blood money there gonna put me in the ground  
if i woke up one morning in a fucking white room with a fucking like anal probe in my ass it would not surprise e at all loool  
institutions arent human and neither are the people behind them  
god i cant fucking TAKE THIS anymore

 **boofit420  
** shit dude ur right  
this whole country’s fucked tbh

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea lol  
well i gtg i have shit to work on  
ttyl

Craig closed the lid of his laptop and groaned, pressing his hands to his eyes. This was fucked. This whole thing was _fucked,_ but not for the reasons Tweek said it was.

 

* * *

 

For the next couple of days, Tweek had been strange and avoidant. Craig thought he knew why, but his confidence in unraveling Tweek’s lies had been shaken. He found himself genuinely concerned for his boyfriend’s welfare in ways that hadn’t struck him before, but he didn’t know how to reach out, because how do you communicate that kind of concern without incriminating yourself?

He found himself lost in the good old days, too. Tweek never really seemed to have a grip on reality, but then again, who did? Especially when you were a teenager? Craig found out somewhere smack dab in the middle of his adolescence that his hometown really was screwed up and it wasn’t just his enlightened sense of the world that, for so long, he had convinced himself he had over the rest of his peers. His family was one of the last to go. He was nearly sixteen, and by some strange twist of fate, when they moved to Boulder to start a new life and he went to his fourth period of class on the first day of the rest of his life, there he was.

Tweek didn’t remember him.

He supposed it made sense. Craig knew there was nothing remarkable or memorable about him. They hadn’t even kissed, and when they woke up to discover someone had torched the _Whole Foods,_ when they started to file out one by one in the passing months, years, there was no dramatic goodbye. He didn’t even feel sad. Just old, somehow. The McCormicks and Tweek’s family had been first to leave. _You’re very brave,_ his mother told him. _No one forgets their first love._

 _Life goes on,_ was all Craig had said, and it did.

He stopped in the middle of the pathway and stared up at Tweek’s building. They were supposed to get together to study tonight, but there’d been silence on his end. He’d caught Tweek at some point in the late morning, hurrying past with a few other art kids (they tried so hard to be different, but they all looked the same, and he could peg them out immediately). “Oh, shit!” Tweek had blurted out when he caught sight of Craig, before Craig could say anything. He’d hurried over and gave him a quick kiss. “I’m working on something!” he said, breathless. “It’s art. It’s art! Love you!”

“Okay,” was all Craig could think to say, but Tweek had already rushed away after the first syllable.

Maybe Tweek forgot him again. After all, he wasn’t that memorable.

He went inside, and texted Tweek with, _I’m here if we’re still on for tonight,_ and briefly contemplated erasing everything but the first two words. But he didn’t.

He waited for about ten minutes, and then Kenny came through the doors, alone. “Oh boy,” he said. “Stood up again, huh?”

“No,” Craig replied. “I just got here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kenny scribbled on the log book and cocked his head toward the elevator. “Today’s been weird, my friend. Very weird.”

Kenny was doing that thing where he thought he was being sly, but it was actually just incredibly fucking annoying. Immediately Craig thought of the smoke, of the bed, and he forced himself not to scowl. Kenny wouldn’t have been worth it. “Why.”

At that, Kenny just dragged out a laboured sigh, one that sounded more like a groan, and patted Craig roughly on the shoulder. Craig twisted away from him. And then they were on the floor that housed Tweek’s dorm (right, and Kenny’s, they roomed together, and maybe that was intentional). “I got a naked chick in my room,” said Kenny. “You can’t come in.”

“Great,” said Craig, taking a seat on one of the lounge sofas. There were a bunch of kids giggling and taking snaps of each other. Together, their hair could have been an entire Skittles pack. One of the stupid special flavour ones, because half of them were faded. They could afford college, but not a better dye job? He texted Tweek again, because he was getting tired of waiting. His time was important. He was valuable, or something, god damn it all.

He wasn’t anything to write home about.

 _Hello?_ No response.

“Guys,” and he knew the voice immediately; who wouldn’t? “We can’t get her to hold still!”

Tweek was out there, just like that, shirtless, wearing some strange sort of mask. It was jeweled and iridescent and it didn’t quite match the spray of forget-me-nots on his right breastbone, or the thin black trees that wove around his hip against a stupid surrealistic mess of watery rainbows, but it _did_ match the snake slung around his shoulders.

A real, live snake.

“Craig!” he said, and then the mask was gone, and there was his face, not that it wasn’t a mask in and of itself. He was coming closer, and so was the fucking snake. It was sticking its head out, bobbing in the air, forked tongue flickering in and out. It was real. It was _real,_ and Tweek was half-naked, and everyone else was cooing and giggling (over him? it? both of them?), and Tweek was trying to bring it _closer._

“What the _fuck?!_ ” Craig actually yelled. Tweek, visibly startled, stopped in his tracks; and then he adjusted _it_ around his collarbones and cuddled, actually _cuddled_ the vermin against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck you, Craig!” he shouted back. “She’s my _emotional support snake!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


	9. Why Not Sneeze?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Does this look like a fucking joke? It’s okay, my sweet. He won’t hurt you!”

“Stop _talking_ to it.” This was not happening. Oh no. This was not happening. Tweek was not standing there with a bunch of Skittle-headed weirdos cooing at a fucking _snake._ Craig quickly rummaged through his head for the survivor tips he’d been taught. Red touch yellow— well, that didn’t matter, because it didn’t have stripes. It was brown, sort of, brownish but no diamonds in sight; a solid golden brown that faded into buttery yellow, covered with shimmering scales that caught the light like a black bird’s wing. He didn’t know snakes could do that.

Nor did he want to know.

“Isn’t Rrose Sélavy beautiful?” Tweek touched his lips to the top of its head. He actually _kissed_ the fucking thing. “She’s a sunbeam snake.” He spoke like he was introducing him to some acquaintance, and how many of Tweek’s acquaintances could coil around his neck like that? Maybe if it didn’t bite, it could strangle instead. What kind of noose had Tweek gotten them both into?

“Is that French or something,” Craig finally managed. Someone sitting on the nearby couch snorted.

“It’s Duchamp’s feminine alter-ego,” replied Tweek.

“Who the Hell is douche’um?” _Oh my god,_ he heard someone titter, and then someone else. He really hated Tweek’s stupid friends. They were so fucking pretentious, and couldn’t conceive of a world that didn’t actually give a shit about whatever artsy-fartsy bullshit they were obsessed with that week.

“ _Duchamp._ Jesus fucking Christ, just, nevermind! Touch her, she won’t bite.” Tweek edged up close to him. The snake was looking at him too: with its beady black eyes, evil tongue flicking in and out, like it wanted to make Craig its next meal. It wasn’t very big, but Craig didn’t want to befriend it either way. Maybe it still had a lot of growing up to do.

“If you don’t get that thing out of my face,” he said tightly, “we are breaking up right this second.”

“Okay, _okay._ God! You’re fucking embarrassing me. Just go away.”

“No.” Craig held fast. “We need to talk.”

“ _Nnnnnngh._ ” Tweek pulled on his hair in frustration. “ _Later,_ Craig, later. I’m kinda in the middle of something here, and, and I really just, if you can’t sit quietly, you need to _leave!_ ”

“You’re going to get yourself kicked out,” Craig stated. “You’ve really gone off the deep end this time, Tweek. I can’t fix you. At this point, I don’t know who can.” He turned his back on him, and started for the elevator.

 _“Can you hold her?”_ There was some muffled talk behind him, and then hurried footfalls that rapidly caught up with him. Craig didn’t turn around; he was already inside. Tweek thrust his leg between the doors before they could close, and stumbled in after him. The mask sat on top of his head like he’d pushed up a pair of sunglasses, and, _thank god_ the snake was mercifully gone. “Fine! We’ll fucking talk,” he said. “We’ll talk, Craig, so stop pulling this shit.” His nipples were hard, and he was beautiful, and in that very moment, Craig honestly felt that he hated him, with everything he had.

“Yeah,” he replied, as the doors closed and the elevator descended. “Fine.” And then Craig stepped up close, so close that their faces were mere inches apart. “What the _fuck_ has gotten into you?” he hissed. “A fucking snake. A _snake._ ”

“I told you I was getting one,” Tweek said, as if this magically explained everything.

“You said you were getting a _pet._ Not a snake. What if it bites someone?”

“Rrose Sélavy _is_ my pet,” Tweek said, “and she doesn’t bite. Not all snakes are poisonous, Craig, Jesus!”

The doors opened and Craig strolled out. He didn’t even look over his shoulder. Of course it was perfectly normal for Tweek to be jogging through the lobby without a shirt on. Craig had a feeling he’d done it wearing even less.

“What the _fuck,_ Craig!” Tweek shouted after him once they’d both gotten outside. He seized him by the shoulder. “You can’t just make a _scene_ like that and then storm away!”

“You’re not even trying to hide it!” Craig clenched his hands into fists. They were both neck-in-neck, but he never stopped moving. People were staring. If Tweek didn’t care, then he didn’t care. “That’s the fucked up part. You’re out there with all your dumb art friends taking stupid pictures and playing dress-up!”

“It’s for a _project!_ ” Tweek defended, indignant.

“Oh, well excuse me.”

“You’re a prick!” Tweek shouted at him. “A real fuckin’ prick, you know that?!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” Craig yelled back. “Try thinkin’ of something _new_ next time you wanna go off!”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Tweek had kicked his shouts up a notch. With him, there was always somewhere further to go. He shoved Craig in the back, and Craig should’ve seen it coming even if he didn’t exactly have eyes in the back of his head. But he didn’t. He didn’t, but the momentum wasn’t impossible to weather against, and he stumbled forward yet remained on his own two feet.

Then he whipped around and pushed back. Tweek’s hands were on Craig’s collar in an instant, and he laughed right in his face. “Get the fuck off me,” Craig growled, as he cuffed him on the ear. “You stupid shit. You’re gonna get _caught,_ and _thrown out!_ ”

“ _Hah!_ Will _not!_ ” Tweek sounded proud. “The RA, he's on my side! I bribed him, even though he already likes her! So, unless… unless _someone_ decides not to keep their _mouth_ shut—”

“Bribed him.” Craig clenched his hands into fists. Immediately that cursed panty shot flashed across his mind. Before he could stop himself, he ground out, “With what, your dick or your mouth.”

Tweek’s eyes were wide. “ _What_ did you just say!?” He came up close the way Craig had tried to posture himself moments ago in the elevator, and even though Craig had a few inches on him, he found himself unconsciously taking a step back. “ _What,_ ” Tweek voiced in a low growl, “what the _fuck_ did you just say to me?”

His quieter moments of anger always managed to unsettle Craig the most. But Craig held his ground. “I… I think you heard me loud and clear, babe,” he threw back. It felt good. It felt _really_ good. “You’re the one who keeps threatening to fuck someone else. Now I know the truth.”

“You don’t know _anything!_ ” Tweek cried. He swung his fist, but Craig was ready for him. He caught Tweek by the wrist and twisted it behind his back.

“You need to calm the fuck down,” Craig spoke into Tweek’s hair as he snarled up at him, but of course that was like showing the bull his red cape. Tweek whipped around and managed to pop him in the mouth with his free hand.

“Don’t tell me to _calm down!_ ” he shouted, and another blow was on its way, but then Craig had him by both wrists. Tweek could grip strong, but so could he.

“You’re a slut,” he stated, matter-of-factly, and panted for breath as Tweek struggled in his hold. “You’re a fucking _slut,_ that’s why you keep wearing condoms, why you—”

“You _fucking_ told me to!” Tweek hollered back, kicking in place like a detained three-year-old.

“ _Hey!_ ” someone called from across the street. It was enough to startle Craig into slackening his grip, and it was enough to bring him back to reality. They were in public. This wasn’t the time nor the place, not if he didn’t want to get his dumb ass arrested. He let Tweek go entirely and without another word, turned and headed in the opposite direction. Back toward his dorm, even if Kyle was there. Because— fuck it. Fuck all of it.

He barely got half a block away before he heard Tweek let out a feral scream behind him, and then there was a weight bearing down on his back, sharp joints poking into his ribs. Craig gasped for air like the wind had been knocked out of him, because it probably was. He tried to shout but could only let out some kind of gurgling sound, and he leaned against the wall of a nearby building, hand pressed to his chest as he caught his breath.

Tweek had pulled the mask down onto his face, and he was laughing like an idiot. It was one of those half-masks that only covered his eyes and part of the bridge of his nose, like a superhero, yet it shone with the same creepy iridescence as that snake, and it was mottled with jewels. They were probably fake, but in the darkness and the artificial gleam of street lamps on Tweek’s face, he looked like one of those snotty, spoiled villains who were only evil because they grew up surrounded by luxury and got everything they wanted thanks to nepotism; the kind that sat behind a big desk and thought the world was ready to be handed to them on a silver platter, and they were outraged to find clean dishes at every turn.

“Fuck you,” Craig spat, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Tweek grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him, and he automatically opened his mouth for him, grasping at his thin naked shoulders. “ _Mmm,_ ” was what rolled from his throat, uncontrolled.

“See,” Tweek growled against his mouth. “You’re the whore.” He shifted his weight, pressing their groins together, and bit at the skin underneath Craig's jaw. “ _You’re_ the whore!”

“Just get rid of that fucking thing,” Craig gasped out as those brutal kisses moved down his neck, and then he felt Tweek reach into his pants.

“No,” Tweek murmured, petting him through his underwear. “I’m keeping her, and you’re not gonna fuck this up for me, _Craig._ ”

“I hate them.” _I hate_ ** _you._** “I hate _sss…_ snakes.” He couldn’t help it; Tweek knew exactly how to touch him, how to manipulate him. He rocked his hips forward.

“You’ll learn,” Tweek cooed. “You’ll learn.” Craig had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Learn what? But then he was kissing his ear. “And, I… I know you might think, you might think you have it all figured out, but you don’t.” He gave off a soft whine and licked the shell of Craig's ear before murmuring, “But I do. I do.”

Craig snorted in spite of himself. “No you fucking don’t,” he said.

“Shut up,” Tweek snarled, and pulled his hand out. Craig tensed in frustration, but Tweek didn’t seem to care; he gripped Craig’s arms tight in his hands. “You, you better not rat me out. I mean it, _boy._ ”

Craig dragged in a deep, ragged breath. “I’m not your boy,” he said. “Not today. Not right now.”

“Yes you are,” Tweek pressed on. “You always are!”

“You’re insane,” said Craig. “You’re actually fucking insa—” But Tweek swallowed the rest of that word, because he was on him again, with his mouth, and the press of his body, and he dragged his fingers down Craig’s wrists until their hands were locked together.

“I’m not getting rid of her,” Tweek stated when they split again. “It’s… that’s final. Don’t rat me out, man. You’ll fucking regret it.”

“I’m not… ugh.” Craig could feel a headache forming. He pulled one of his hands away and rubbed at the center of his forehead. They’d gotten off-track with this sudden ‘let’s make out and touch dicks right here on the street’ nonsense, and then Tweek had set them right back on that track again, but he was the one driving the engine. Craig didn’t trust his driving; he never did. “I’m not going to ‘rat you out’. That was never my plan in the first place.”

“Then why are we here? Why are we here, Craig, when I have shit to do?” Tweek huffed at him, and crossed his arms.

“Because _you’re going off the deep end._ ” It was futile to keep the annoyance, the frustration out of his voice anymore. “It’s like you’re acting out. I dunno.”

“Acting _out?_ ” Tweek barked out an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah.” Craig puffed out a breath through his nose. “You keep doing all this crazy shit. There’s gonna be consequences. There’s always consequences.”

“Thanks, _Dad,_ ” Tweek scoffed, and then his eyes blazed with something white-hot that Craig couldn’t understand. “Thanks, _Dad!_ ” he said again, raising his voice, and then he socked Craig in the shoulder. “I’m crazy and now you’re gonna threaten me. _You._ Threatening _me!_ ”

“How on earth was that a _threat?_ ” Craig could feel his breathing coming out faster. Maybe Tweek was right. Maybe he wasn’t the crazy one here, because Craig was honestly about to fire himself off to the Moon with how fucking insane he was getting over all this shit. And he knew too much, and he thought of the Pandora’s Box he’d opened, and _Christ,_ maybe he should just get out of here. Maybe he should just run, again.

“You’re, you’re being all cryptic and shit, and you _know_ what that does to me! You _know!_ So tell me now! What has my father been saying to you? What the _fuck_ did he tell you!?”

“Your fath— _what?!_ ” Tweek had gripped him by the front of his shirt. Even through the mask, Craig could see how wild and frantic his eyes had become, pupils round and full and dark. Whatever he’d just convinced himself, he really, truly believed in that moment. And Craig suddenly felt scared, but not for himself. “I don’t talk to your father,” he said quickly, trying to pry Tweek’s hands from him. “Listen to yourself.” _If I hadn’t lied to you,_ he suddenly thought, _how would I have reacted?_ He knew Tweek was already on this crazy thought process and a nauseating, sorrowful guilt washed over him.

“Listen to myself,” Tweek repeated. “ _Listen_ to myself!?” He laughed, bitterly, but he dropped his hands, and pushed them up against his face instead.

“You’ve changed, Tweek,” Craig said before he could stop himself. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

A long, low whine reverberated through Tweek, something that sounded like a mixture of exasperation and despair. “Great.” His voice was slightly muffled by the heels of his palms. “Great! So now that we’ve established that you don’t love me anymore, can I get back to my fucking homework?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t!” He was heading in the opposite direction, just like Craig moments ago. Craig started after him and grabbed his shoulder.

“Tweek—”

“ _Fuck off!_ ” Tweek screamed in his face, and that was when Craig decided to leave, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


	10. Devil In the Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your previous comments. My laptop shit the bed for a while there. The month of June is also going to be kind of crazy busy for me. I still have a lot of ideas (more like DRAMA) for this trash fic that I can't wait to spill out, though.

It had been a long-ass day. Kenny kept a careful grasp on the dress held in his hands; it was half-finished, the basic structure sewn together, but it was time to delve into the details. Time to embellish, embellish, embellish. They weren’t kidding when they said the Devil was in the details, after all.

Of course, it was just his luck, too. Because that wasn’t the only place the Devil was. He was standing at the front desk, too, when Kenny entered the twin doors of his residential building. It almost made him give pause, but then he quickly picked up the pace. Perhaps he didn’t see him. Perhaps he was too engaged in arguing with the tired-looking front desk staff to take notice, to snatch Kenny into his trackmark-laden talons and drag him down to Hell, too.

“ _Hello,_ Kenny.”

Not a fucking chance.

Kenny stopped in his tracks. He’d made it halfway to the elevator.

“Uh, hey… Richard.”

“I’m looking for my son. I’m afraid I can’t get anything out of this young lady, who claims she’s only doing her job.” Richard always looked fine on the surface. His shirts were always neatly pressed, and he wore the nicest shoes. But to anyone who actually _knew_ him…

“Sorry.” Kenny lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Not sure where he is.” _Tweek is going to lose his shit,_ he thought wryly.

“Can you sign me in, at the very least?” Richard smiled. It was always really fucking creepy when he smiled. Kenny exhaled sharply.

“Can’t,” he said. “Got my arms full. Sorry.” And with that, he made a beeline for the elevator.

When it arrived at his floor, he nearly burst into his room, before managing to catch himself quick. Tweek was like a cat sometimes, always startled so easily, and he wasn’t in the mood for his claws tonight. Especially when he’d likely already get them, when he heard the news. Kenny seized himself, took in a deep breath, and opened the door.

Tweek was zoned out, staring up at the ceiling, which was not an uncommon occurrence. He was also stark naked and had that fucking snake of his draped over his chest. Kenny shook his head, and carefully arranged his project on the desk by his own bed. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi.” Tweek sniffled, and reached up to drag a hand just underneath both his eyes. Had he been crying? The snake slithered over his skinny torso. Her head was somewhere on his left pectoral. Kenny thought about making further small talk, but then he realized he’d just be delaying the inevitable.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your Dad’s looking for you downstairs.” Tweek jolted like Kenny had just branded him.

“ _What?_ ” he cried. Kenny waved his hands.

“ _Shh,_ I didn’t tell him shit,” he said quickly. “And you know policy.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Tweek sat bolt upright. “I gotta get out of here! I can’t be here! Someone’ll let him in. They always do!” But it had always been Tweek who relented. Kenny drew closer to him. Tweek had one hand against the snake, and he was shaking.

“Just lay low,” Kenny said. “I’ll get you whatever you need. Okay?” He reached out and patted Tweek’s hand—the one that _wasn’t_ touching the snake, mind you—and Tweek let out a whimper.

“I, oh god,” he breathed out. He raked his free hand through his hair and hissed out, “ _shit!_ ” Kenny eyed the snake apprehensively, and took a step back. He really wasn’t a fan of the thing, but he figured Tweek would get tired of it soon. It had only been a few days since he got it— _her,_ whatever.

As if on cue, Tweek’s phone buzzed. Over and over. The long, drawn-out kind that indicated ringing. He yipped and clawed over his face. Neither of them needed to look at the phone to know who it was. “Hey,” Kenny said, and he reached carefully for the snake. He _really_ didn’t want to touch it, but probably better to set the creature out of reach if Tweek was going to have a fucking meltdown. Tweek didn’t seem to notice, anyway, because he pressed both his hands over his face and groaned as soon as the snake was off his skin. Kenny set her down in her aquarium and quickly closed up the top.

“Jesus fucking Christ _I can’t take this right now!_ ” Tweek pulled at his hair and kicked his feet a few times. Kenny watched his soft dick flop around. “Fuck,” he said before Kenny could say anything else, and snatched up his phone. “ _What?!_ ” he barked into it.

Kenny couldn’t quite hear the words on the other end, just the strange, smooth timbre of Richard’s voice. It was quite distinctive. No one else could match it. He went back over to his desk and lightly touched the dress he’d been working on. Part of him wondered if he shouldn’t just hightail it off to Bebe’s and leave this mess to sort itself out.

No. He couldn’t just abandon Tweek like that.

“I’m not, I can’t, I’m busy.” A pause and some murmuring from the receiver. “No, Dad! I’m _busy!_ I don’t wanna see you, okay!?” Another pause. “No,” and Tweek’s voice got smaller, “no.” He sniffled again, and wiped his nose with the back of a hand, before pulling a blanket over the lower half of his body. It was like he suddenly realized how naked he was. Kenny took out his phone, too, and though he knew he’d be poking at the hornets’ nest, he got up in their business anyway.

— _your boyfriends losing his shit can u get over ehre_

It took another moment before he got the response: _when isn’t he._

“ _Who-are-you-texting!?_ ” Tweek cried. Kenny lifted his gaze. He had the phone halfway to his mouth, and was staring right at Kenny, complete unbridled horror written all over his face. Kenny waved his hand a little. “Just Kenny,” Tweek said into the phone.

Great.

_Craig,_ Kenny mouthed at him, and waved his hands some more. He _really_ didn’t want Richard to bother him again on the way down, especially since it came out that he’d lied to his face. Tweek seemed to get the picture just as quick, because whatever Richard said to him made him clap a hand over his mouth.

“ _No,_ ” he said brusquely, and then it seemed like he was beginning to hyperventilate. “N-no, no no. It’s fine. It’s fine! He just—no, just leave him out of this. Please, I can’t right now, I just can’t. _Fuck!_ ” He hung up the phone, pressed his face into his pillow and screeched, long and drawn out before getting to his feet and pulling on whatever he could from the floor. “I gotta go,” he said. “Can you, can you just—” He cut himself off there and rubbed his hands against his face. He was flushed, like he’d been crying all this time, but his eyes stayed dry. “Kenny…”

“Just stand up to him,” Kenny said.

“I _tried_ that!” Tweek shouted. “I fucking _tried_ that, but he gets in my fucking head, oh man, I can’t fucking— _fuck!_ ” He slammed a fist into the cot he’d been lying on. “What did you tell Craig? Did I—did I tell you, he fucking hates me now? He hates me, he said so. And now my dad’s here. I bet he called him _himself!_ ”

“No, no,” Kenny urged him. “Don’t start, c’mon. You know he wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I _knew_ he loved me, but we can’t be right _all_ the time. Can we?!” Tweek pulled up his pants and zipped them up, then huffed as he pushed his feet into his shoes. Kenny didn’t know what else to say, and so Tweek said nothing else, either. He yanked the door open, but then closed it behind him so quietly, Kenny didn’t even hear the latch.

He thought about texting Craig back, and pulled his phone out, but then shrugged and tossed it onto his bed.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, snakey,” he said to the glass. Tweek’s snake, Rose or whatever, was curling herself up. She looked like an iridescent, coiled rope. “This is what it’s like. Life at Casa Tweek-McCormick. And you’re illicit.”

Her tongue flicked out, briefly.

“Illicit. Illegitimate. Whatever they call it. I dunno. I don’t really like snakes much, but you deserve better. Sorry you got saddled with a pair of nutjobs.” He touched the glass with his fingers, like this would communicate any of this to her somehow. “You’re real pretty. Weird, ‘cuz you’re a fuckin’ snake, but pretty. Didn’t know snakes could get all glittery like that. I know a girl who’d go real wild over you. Yeah? She’d love the fuck outta you.”

Kenny retrieved his phone and stared down at the black screen for a moment, casually tapping it with his fingers. He thought about her now, Bebe, probably at work and laughing along at some nasty bum’s awful jokes so she’d get bigger tips. She was smart like that. Maybe even self-sacrificing. (Then again, anyone would have to be self-sacrificing, to be with the likes of him.) He thought about Craig, too, who was probably off sulking somewhere. Kenny knew that he and Tweek had gotten into a fight over the snake, that he demanded Tweek get rid of it and he refused so he dumped Tweek or something, but Kenny didn’t buy it.

He didn’t buy it, because he knew how Tweek was, and he knew how Craig was, even if he wasn’t interested in getting to the bottom of this recent brouhaha of theirs. He knew Tweek had a flair for the dramatic that extended into catastrophizing nearly everything that happened in his life, and he knew that Craig was a simple-minded, thick-headed country boy who was so fucking enamoured with Tweek that even the truth about everything wouldn’t be enough to tear them apart. Not even the truth, and not even the lies that encompassed it.

Tweek didn’t process _everything_ through a melodramatic lens, though. One thing in his life remained consistent, and that was his father. Kenny felt his insides roil.

He pulled up the camera on his phone, carefully took aim, and shot the snake right through her glass. The filter he chose made the strange, ethereal colours on her scales stand out. Then he sent it off.

Almost immediately, he got a reply back.

_OMG!!!_ said Bebe’s text. _I LOVE HER!_


	11. Sugar Or Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAA-AAACK. Real Life has been crazy, being an adult sucks sometimes, etc. It's starting to calm down now, though, so updates will come more regularly.
> 
> Also, one of my lovely mutuals, hamflask, drew [this adorable art](http://hamflask.tumblr.com/post/175147753768/a-boy-and-his-emotional-support-snake-inspired) of Tweek and his snake! GO LOOK it's so fucking precious, I'm still swooning. <3

**drunkonstotch  
** good evening

 

Tweek paused mid-light, glass pipe perched carefully in his hand. The screen was lit aglow at his feet and he leaned down to see who’d messaged him. There was that flutter of hope that it might be the one fucking person he would kill to hear from, but no, just one of _them._

Just one of them.

From the bed, he heard Kenny turn over. He didn’t bother to smoke tonight. _Tonight, it’s all you,_ he’d said, patting Tweek on the back. Tonight, it’s all you. Tonight, it’s just you. Tonight, it’s _only_ you. And Kenny slept like there was nothing else going on in the world around him. His girlfriend was out at work. She would climb in before dawn struck and slide into her basement bed next to Kenny like it was routine. _You don’t have to sleep on the floor,_ they would tell him, sometimes. She would pat the bed invitingly.

Don’t sleep on the floor. Sleep with us. _Sleep_ with us.

Be with us.

Tweek always declined, with an emphatic shake of his head, but she never quite seemed to get the message.

He dragged in the hit he'd been holding out on, and let the fog rise all around him. _Dear sweet Christ,_ he thought. _I don’t want to think anymore. Don’t make me think anymore._ He picked up his phone and tapped out the passcode on the screen, then pulled up his Tumblr app.

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi daddy

 **drunkonstotch  
** no pics tonite?

 **tweeker-nation  
** idk is that what u want?

 

Tweek glanced down at his wrist. In the dark, he could still make out the faint, brown ovals that lined its surface. He knew they were the shadows of his father’s fingertips, but somehow, he didn’t even feel resigned anymore. They were just there, like he’d bumped his knee against a table. An accident. A circumstance. He lit up again and undid the first couple buttons of his shirt, a plain one in grey. The flowers were still there, as they’d always be—the forget-me-nots—but he was clean otherwise.

He breathed out his nose like he was a dragon, and shot himself in the dim light, just like that. And in spite of his desire to make the thoughts go away, it wasn’t Tumblr he opened up again, but his text messages. The same ones that had lain dormant for hours.

— _what’s going on_

— _???_

— _your roommate said you were freaking out_

— _what do u care ur the one who doesnt love me an more_

Silence. He knew why, of course. Craig had already moved on.

Just like that, he was nothing.

Tweek posted the snapshot, and another, in faded sepia tones. His world felt washed out anyway. So how would lying about the colours make any sort of a difference?

At first, he didn’t even want to bother with any caption or tags. But then he was feeling spiteful, so he typed in,

_#ridinsolo #bc i WAS ride or die #but u dont fuckn care #spun as shit_

 

 **drunkonstotch  
** what about the special pics  
cmon baby i got my dick out and everything

 **tweeker-nation  
** gimme my sugar 1st daddy

 **drunkonstotch  
** ur so demanding  
for a junky  
just take it off

 

Tweek felt his hands clench into fists. This particular guy always tried pulling that shit on him. It was infuriating because he also tended to give him the most money, even more than the guy who enjoyed sending gifts and receiving pictures of himself wearing them. Maybe he was into the fight, the banter. Maybe his life was even more worthless than Tweek’s, if he needed this to feel something in the first place.

Tweek dragged his blunt nails down over the skin on his chest and reached into his shirt, toyed with one of his nipples. In a sudden, blinding fury, he twisted his hands into the garment on both sides and yanked, hard. The buttons tore through and he heard a couple of them pop off entirely. His breathing had gone erratic. Kenny grunted something imperceptible from the bed but that was the extent of how much he stirred.

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** sugar  
or nothing

 

He stared blankly at his phone, at the words that wouldn’t come, gnawing relentlessly on one of his fingertips. His teeth seized the sharp little nettle of a hangnail and tugged. A warm, irritable pain prickled through his hand.

Five minutes went by. Then ten.

Tweek snarled and lit up again. His hands were shaking something horrible.

Then, it came through. The notification on his Paypal. Three hundred dollars.

_Thank Christ._

He licked his fingers and dragged them down his chest, silently wishing he had more nail to work with. God only knew how badly he wanted to tear his own skin off.

 _“You know it’s kinda hypocritical, right,”_ Kenny told him once. _“You’re not taking any of your dad’s spending money, but isn’t he the one paying for all this?”_

“You don’t fucking understand,” Tweek said out loud, to the memory. He shivered hard, felt every one of his nailbeds throb. “ _Nnngh_ — you’ll never understand.” But even with Kenny right there before him, he wouldn’t address him. Couldn’t address him. And Kenny slept like the dead.

It came to him when he was pulling his dick out and had taken a few cursory photos, the aching bulge in his shorts, the pale bones of his torso. That other guy was messaging him. They hadn’t talked in a while. And he never asked Tweek to show him anything anymore. Or had he in the first place? His memory was so, so fucking shot.

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi

 **boofit420  
** sup

 **tweeker-nation  
** idk  
i hate my ife man  
life  
im so done  
& im at my 2nd job and im so redy 2 quit

(Though he knew he never would.) 

 **boofit420  
** 2nd job?

 **tweeker-nation  
** nvm  
hows ur ass lol

 **boofit420  
** my ass is fine  
was gonna get lit but maybe 2morrow

 **tweeker-nation  
** im lit  
lol  
im beynd lit  
saw my dad 2day  
i h8 him  
i want him ded  
want a mission? kil lmy dad  
plz  
loooool

 **boofit420  
** cant help u there  
w happened

 **tweeker-nation  
** he exitses to make my life miserable  
thats all u need 2 know///  
im ready to just say fuck it and move  
like far away forever  
i mean i lots everthing else so who the fuck cares anywa???y  
look heres the only one who willever love me again

 

His unwitting friend, or acquaintance who knew too much, whatever, got an eyeful of the snake that was currently sitting alone in his dorm room. Tweek had pictures of her saved on his phone. Briefly, he pondered sending along part of the set he’d been working on, but he didn’t want to be recognized. Anything that could have been set up in more than one place at once: it always carried that risk. He still wasn’t sure if he was going to do anything with the photographs of himself, his own living subject, and her, and the sections of painted skin—but he couldn’t be in two places at once.

He could never be in two places at once.

 

 **boofit420  
** wow  
a snake???

 **tweeker-nation  
** her name is rrose selavy  
shes my baby  
everone wants me to get rid of her

 **boofit420  
** idk maybe she scares them

 **tweeker-nation  
** maybe  
but guess what sacares me  
being alone  
im goingto die alone arent i???  
shit idk why i asked u that lol just ignore me

 **boofit420  
** well that’s depressing  
why do you thnk that  
*think

 **tweeker-nation  
** my dad said i would  
today  
i think hes right  
im never going to amount to anythign  
i could probabyl just drop out and suport myself with this shit  
the selfies  
lol  
i have sugar daddies did u know that

 **boofit420  
** yeah

 **tweeker-nation  
** some guy just paid me $300 for a shot of my dick  
hes seen it before  
hes seen it many times  
but he always comes back for more  
why do they always come back for more man???? idgi  
but its lucratiev  
sometiems hell pay me $500 for my ass  
who the fuck needs a real job when u got it made like this lol

 **boofit420  
** i mean i guess if you wanna be a whore for the rest of your life

 **tweeker-nation  
** i already would be  
my dad wnats me to take over the family business  
and like  
i dont WANT TO

 **boofit420  
** if your set for life i dont get what the problem is

 **tweeker-nation  
** havent u ever had ppl want u to be something ur not???  
im not a businessman  
im an artist

 **boofit420  
** all the fucking time

 **tweeker-nation  
** see u get me  
nayway it’s not JUST about that  
i cant live under my dads thumb  
i need to break away from him  
and find my own path  
i just feel like ill never be free of him  
my friends dont even fuckin undrstand or believe me he’s always been the COOL DAD  
who gives me whatever i want  
but its never been like that  
nothing is free, nothing has ever been free

 

Tweek paused there to set his phone down, and he squeezed his eyes closed, remembering his father’s words from earlier that day. _Remember where you came from,_ he’d said. _Remember who really loves you. It isn’t this place, this establishment, they just want to take your money. Your friends all want something from you too. They might put on their best face, they might convince you that they care, but you’ll see the truth once you hit rock bottom. They’ll all leave you, and you’ll be on your own, except you won’t, because you know who’ll always be there?_

 _Who always_ **_has_ ** _been there?_

They were burning something awful, his eyes, but there wouldn’t be any tears. There was never enough left in him for tears, not anymore. It was the light from his phone, and the weight of his father’s words, they always managed to claw their way into his heart and dig at the walls of his chest. Even the pipe wouldn’t be enough to banish them away entirely, because if he stripped away all the things that tainted him, he would still be there.

He still _was_ there. And he always would be.

Tweek drew in another hit, and grit his teeth in a vain attempt to swallow back the urge to cough. It felt good, but it still scalded his throat, even now. He gave up and pitched forward slightly, face pressed into his arm as he choked and sputtered. Kenny mumbled something from his place on the bed. Perhaps he didn’t always sleep like the dead, after all.

 

 **boofit420  
** yeah that’s one of life’s hardest lessons  
what does it cost you?

 **tweeker-nation  
** i dont want to talk about htis anymore  
wanna see my dick?  
im really hard rn

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk I'm ambivalent about this chapter but whatever. I'm forcing myself to keep them short for a reason. Onto the next...


	12. Fuck You, It's Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what this chapter has! Some of that sweet, sweet Staig content. The tags didn't lie!

_It was two-fourteen in the morning. Two-fucking-fourteen in the morning. Craig scrubbed a hand over his eyes; he was already contemplating putting his phone on silent forever. It seemed like such a logical, sound decision. Why hadn’t he in the first place? What kind of relationship had he gotten himself into?_

_“Hey,” he said, his voice thick and groggy and obviously, so obviously yanked right out of sleep. He already knew who it was, but the voice on the other end was low, quiet, unsure of itself._

_“H- um, hi.” He didn’t say anything else. All that followed was a couple of measured breaths. Craig huffed out a sigh, not even bothering to mask his annoyance._

_“Tweek,” he said. “It’s two in the morning.”_

_“I know. I just, um…” But he trailed off again._

_“I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

_“No, wait!” Tweek’s voice was tight, hurried. “Wait, uh…” It sounded like he was clearing his throat. “Did you get the notes? From, from uh… from History? For the test.”_

_This was turning out to be one of the weirdest conversations Craig could ever recall having. “You’re not in my History class,” he mumbled, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. “Are you even awake right now?”_

_“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked. When he spoke again, it was thicker. “Yeah, I’m awake. I’m sorry.”_

_I’m sorry._

_And just like that, it was dead. Craig couldn’t get back to sleep, anyway._

 

* * *

 

“This is stupid,” announced Craig, no sooner than when he set foot on the porch of _Sigma Tau Phi._ In fact, he was ready to leave before he’d even arrived. Who the Hell did he allow to talk him into this again?

“C-come on, Craig,” his friend insisted. “Don’t be a p-p-puh… pussy. You n-need to get out once, once in… once in a while.”

Right. It had been Jimmy.

Of course it had been Jimmy.

Jimmy was one of those people who seemed to know virtually everyone—at least, everyone who mattered, in an objective sense. If Craig’s sense of purpose and his own assessment of the worth of everyone around him was anything to go by, that list would be whittled down to a very select few. And even those people, with their orbits that Craig was inevitably forced into, some of them didn’t even count. Not _really._

“I’m not sticking with you all night,” Craig had informed his childhood friend earlier that day, when Jimmy managed to smooth-talk him into going to one of those stupid parties he was always boasting about. Craig’s idea of a wild night was knocking back a couple of energy drinks and blasting his way through Nazi zombies until the sun came up. Or, spending an entire weekend in bed, marathon-fucking with… whatever Tweek was to him, anymore. They were in limbo.

It had only been four days since that stupid fight where they stomped around campus and shoved each other into walls and Tweek insisted, in front of a bunch of faceless pedestrians who didn’t even exist beyond some kind of strange ambience that kept them both from tearing each other to shreds right then and there: _you don’t love me anymore._

_Well, I wouldn’t._

Barely half an hour later found him with a goddamn beer bong shoved into his mouth and bitter liquid coursing down his gullet with alarming speed—it was stupid. Clyde was trying to get everyone around them to yell, _CHUG! CHUG!_ but it fell flat. They were content to laugh instead. It burned all the way up into Craig’s nose when he finally let the stupid contraption fall to the ground and he lurched forward, sputtering for air like he’d just emerged from underwater. Jimmy was there, too, and he laughed and patted him roughly on the back.

“G-great, great job, pal,” he was saying. Craig grunted at him and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“I did it, the college try, it’s done.” Craig didn’t even know what he was talking about. “I’m leaving.”

“What!” That was—well, it wasn’t Jimmy that time. Actually, it was Stan Marsh. And he was _plastered._ “You just got here, dude, don’t be a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Where the Hell did he come from, anyway? Or had he been standing there the whole time? Yeah, he’d been standing there the whole time. He must have. Craig’s vision was getting fuzzy around the edges. Stan was laughing at him. Of course he’d be laughing at him. Stan, the bane of his roommate’s existence, and Craig’s by proxy, because he had to be around this stupid bullshit. There wasn’t any sign of Kyle, though. “Does your fuckboy even know you’re here?” he slurred.

“My _what?_ ” But the tone of Stan’s voice sounded more like he just plain didn’t _hear_ him. It was getting quite loud in there. There were sets of red cups arranged on a shitty card table like bowling pins and people were shouting and lobbing balls around. Craig found himself dragged into an unwitting game of beer pong. And he was on the losing team— or was he? Did any of it even matter anymore?

“Your fuckboy,” he said again except it was probably an hour later by that point, maybe even two. Craig wasn’t keeping track of time anymore. Every time he tried to read his phone, the numbers would just blur on his screen and they were so bright that they hurt his eyes. There were a couple rectangles on the screen that indicated he had some kind of notification, but if he couldn’t even read the hugeass numbers that he suspected were supposed to be idiot-proof, then he sure as Hell couldn’t be assed to read something much tinier. The phone went away.

“Kyle’s a good guy,” Stan slurred back. “Shut up.”

“I know he’s a good guy,” said Craig, “I live with his nerd ass.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go smoke.”

“Just cigarettes?” That’s all they were. And Stan might have been sloshed, but he still had the foresight to go outside. Maybe it was all an excuse to get some air, since Craig needed it too. It was getting stuffy and sweaty in there. They weren’t supposed to smoke indoors, but it was happening anyway, and he couldn’t breathe.

“You were an asshole,” Stan said after a minute or five. “Last time.” Craig was leaning against the railing, and he was sure his eyes were rolling around in his head. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to intoxication; why couldn’t he focus on anything?

“Last time what,” he drawled.

“When we were hanging out. I dunno.”

“Oh,” said Craig. “Yeah. Well, I was in a bad way.” Jesus fucking Christ, he thought. Stop _talking._

“No shit,” said Stan. “I’m in a, well, me too.” He laughed then, like it was some weird kind of inside joke. Craig didn’t get it.

“Just give me one of those,” he said. Stan pulled one out and Craig stuck it between his lips. “Got a light,” he asked, his words even more garbled.

“You don’t even have a lighter?” Stan flicked his lighter on, and held it out, flame dancing right in front of Craig’s nose. Craig shut his eyes and breathed in. He had the weird impression that Stan was staring right into his face. Almost as weird as the burning sensation that crackled through his throat all the way down into his lungs, and he coughed into his wrist.

“No,” Craig managed, before bending over, hands pressed to his knees. He coughed even harder. “Shit,” he rasped.

“Dude,” Stan was laughing. “Do you even smoke?”

“No.” That just made Stan laugh even harder. Craig shoved him in the chest. “Shut up,” he choked out.

“If you don’t smoke, why’d you ask me for one?!”

“I dunno.” Craig took it out, that godforsaken cancer-stick, with the intent of stubbing it out. Instead, he held it between his fingers, and turned his head for another round of coughing. “I smoked pot plenty of times,” he felt the need to clarify, somehow, even though he didn’t owe Stan Marsh shit.

“You even hold it like a girl!” Stan’s voice had risen in pitch, nearly hysterical with laughter. “Jesus fucking _Christ,_ dude!”

“Shut the fuck up.” That was when Craig smashed the end of it into the railing, and threw it over the side of the porch.

“Wow,” said Stan. “Thanks for wasting it.”

“Sunken cost,” muttered Craig.

“ _What?_ ”

“Ugh.” He’d forgotten how much of a neanderthal this guy was. “The sunk cost fallacy. You already gave up that cigarette. Whether or not I smoked the whole thing, it doesn’t matter. Because it’s gone either way.”

“Oh my god,” Stan wheezed out, pressing a hand to his stomach. “Now you’re getting all like, philosophical or something. I don’t know if I can handle this.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Nevermind.”

“I bet you’re even worse when you get blazed,” laughed Stan.

“I haven’t smoked up in years,” said Craig. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t even vape?”

“No.”

“Wow. I totally thought you vaped.”

“What gave you that impression,” Craig ground out.

“Because you’re a total douchebag. It just seems right.”

“Fuck you.” Craig flipped him off for good measure. It just made Stan laugh again.

“I want more beer,” he said. “I’m gonna get more beer.”

“Then go,” said Craig.

“You’re not coming with?”

“I’m staying out here.”

Stan shrugged at that, and then he was gone. Craig leaned against the railing again and stared down at the grass. Someone slurred something at him that he didn’t understand, but he just waved them off. At one point some girl tried to chat him up, and he didn’t even bother trying to mince words.

“I’m gay,” he said. “I’m vagina-repulsed.” When that just made her laugh and pat him on the shoulder, he brushed her off and reiterated, “No, I’m serious. They’re disgusting and smelly.”

“Wow. That’s so fucking sexist.”

“I don’t think gay people can be sexist,” remarked her equally-inebriated brunette friend.

“Uh, yes they certainly _can._ ” The first girl barked out a laugh, like that was the most asinine thing she’d ever heard.

“Nuh-uh, like, we totally covered it in my Gender Studies course. You can only be sexist if you’re in power. Gay people aren’t in power, because they're victims of an oppressive system over something they're born with and never asked for, so it’s not sexist.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Craig yelled.

“What?” Stan’s voice was at his side. Craig turned his head to see him standing there with two cans of _Coors._ He held one out.

“I’m not drinking that piss water,” snapped Craig. Stan snorted.

“Dude you were chugging it down like there was no tomorrow like, half an hour ago. Just take the damn thing!”

“Hopefully that pee didn’t come from a _vagina,_ ” scoffed one of the girls, and then they both cracked up.

“Is this guy bothering you?” inquired Stan with a knowing grin.

“ _No,_ ” the girl who initially approached Craig replied sharply. “We were just leaving.” With a flip of her long, black hair, she did precisely that.

“Bye, Stan,” her friend called back over a shoulder.

“Who the fuck was that,” Craig asked flatly while cracking open his beer. It fizzed up and he slurped at the edges of the can before he could even think about it. It was disgusting.

“Eh,” shrugged Stan. “Just one of my exes from high school.”

“What an annoying cunt,” Craig declared. “I can see why.”

“Jesus, dude,” Stan remarked with a shake of his head, but he was chuckling. “Yeah, it’s, well. It’s whatever. Who stays with the same person through high school _and_ college, anyway?”

Craig lowered the can from his mouth after taking a hearty swallow. He hadn’t actually tasted piss before—Tweek was into a few weird things, but not _that_ weird—but he still felt it was an apt comparison. “Tweek and I dated in high school.”

“Wow, really?” Stan stared at him as if this was shocking news somehow. “Wait, I think I knew that. Did I know that?”

“I don’t care either way.”

“Yeah, that explains a lot. That… really explains a lot. Jeez.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean.”

Stan waved his hand a little. “Like, you guys are… I dunno. He’s fucking crazy, dude.”

Craig scoffed. “No shit he is.”

“Who just runs out and gets a snake? And thinks it’s a good idea to smuggle it into the dorms? Who even _does_ that?”

Craig’s lips quirked in a faint smile. He couldn’t help it. “Yeah, I know.”

“Kyle said he came back once and he’d just completely taken apart his desk. Like, without even asking. And when he asked what the Hell he was doing, he— Tweek said—”

“ _Fuck you, it’s art,_ ” Craig recited along with him, and then snorted out a wry laugh through his nose. “Yeah, he wanted to build some kind of sculpture or, project, I don’t even know.”

“Why didn’t you just use _your_ desk?”

“He _did._ It was both of our desks.”

“Oh, god,” laughed Stan. “Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Yeah, Kyle was furious. I had to leave the room. Their screeching back and forth gave me a migraine.”

“The even funnier thing,” Stan added, “is that they apparently weren’t even arguing over the desk. They were fighting over what was really art! That’s what Kyle told me.”

“Ugh.” Craig rubbed at his forehead. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“I don’t— I don’t _get_ it, dude. I don’t _get_ art.”

“Me either,” Craig admitted.

It was only a split second later—not even enough time for an awkward but meaningful stare, or a lull in the conversation—that Stan kissed him.

Wide-eyed, Craig immediately shoved him away, hand on his shoulder. The movement jostled his beer, and some of it splattered onto his own shirt. “What the _fuck!_ ”

“I dunno,” Stan replied, and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Whoa. Shit. I dunno why I did that. Sorry—” Craig had grabbed him then, and dragged himself up close, and before he could even process his own body through the haze around him they were kissing. His hands were on Stan’s face and Stan’s lips were open, he tasted like fucking beer, and it was nasty. Craig shoved his tongue into his mouth and their teeth clicked together. Stan made a little noise in his throat. He smelled like cologne and a little like sweat.

Across the lawn, someone whooped and clapped. Another person whistled. Craig pulled back then, huffing out a quick breath. Everything felt watery around the edges and there was a strange lightness in his stomach.

“Wow,” said Stan.

“Shut up.” Should they have gone back inside? They probably should have gone back inside. Before Craig knew it, they were on each other again. Stan’s leg was between his and they had their tongues down each other’s throats and his scratchy, two-day stubble was scraping against Craig’s face and it was _hot._ He grunted something unintelligible and Craig reached around and down to squeeze his ass through his jeans. Stan made a grab for him, too, and ended up clutching at his thigh.

This was a disaster. Wasn’t it a disaster?

Craig pressed forward, just a little. His trapped, hardening dick ground up against Stan’s thigh. Stan sort of looped his arm around Craig’s waist and pushed up against him in turn. “ _Mmgh,_ ” was Craig’s response, but he didn’t pull away, not even so he could talk. Fuck talking; he was done with it. He gripped the back of Stan’s neck with one hand and then Stan’s grip was on his shoulders, his waist, tangling in his shirt, pretty much everywhere. There was something endearing about their mingled clumsiness.

“Wait, wait,” Craig finally gasped out when Stan had his shirt halfway up and was dragging rough fingers along the happy trail beneath his navel, “we’re outside. We’re, uh…”

“Oh shit,” Stan muttered. Somewhere in the mess they’d become they managed to set down their drinks, though Craig couldn’t remember where. He shifted and felt his elbow collide with something on the flimsy railing, followed by a metallic clatter, and then the hiss of fizzy liquid as it ran out under his shoes. “Hey watch it,” Stan slurred out, “yuh done spilled yer beer!” He cracked up at his own stupid joke that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Craig irritably swiped a hand through his own hair.

“I should get going,” he said, and cast a glance over his shoulder. No one seemed to be watching anymore, and even if they were, Craig found he really didn’t give a rat’s ass after all. Gay people weren’t exactly something out of the norm here. Even if they were both redneck idiots, this was hipster town.

“ _Aww,_ ” replied Stan. He looked like a big, dumb, sad puppy.

“Seriously?”

“It was just getting good,” said Stan. “I mean, I dunno, you’re actually kinda cool. When you’re not around— well, you know.”

“Ugh,” said Craig. He did know. He also _didn’t_ know what to make of that statement.

“Dude, like,” Stan made an empty gesture. “You gotta like, be your own person! You’re Craig, not like, I dunno. _Art._ You’re not art and you’re not that guy’s like, desk that he took apart, or whatever.” He seemed to realize then how fucking stupid all that babble sounded, because the timbre of his voice dropped a notch near the end, and then he was laughing.

“You’re drunk,” Craig informed him. “For the record, you’re drunk.”

“So are _you!_ ” Stan shoved at him. Craig retaliated by slugging him in the shoulder. “ _Ow._ ”

“Don’t touch me,” he said, but then Stan was draping himself over him anyway, an arm slung around his shoulders. Craig didn’t even try to fight him off.

“C-come on,” he slurred out. “I don’t wanna go home. I’m bored.”

“Well,” Craig replied, and he realized right then that his voice was pretty slow, too. His words felt thick and sticky on his tongue, and his tongue felt useless, in so many ways. “Well, you’re hangin’ around the wrong person, then.”

“ _Nuuuh-uhhh,_ ” Stan protested, and snickered to himself. “You’re Craig.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” said Craig, as he staggered off the porch and onto the lawn. They managed to make it down the stairs, but as soon as their beer-spattered shoes touched grass, Stan stumbled over himself. That made Craig stumble, too, and he ended up on his knees. He also couldn’t get up, because Stan was still hanging off him, and the fall had just enticed him to cling even harder. His lips brushed Craig’s cheek. Craig swatted at him.

“You’re _hot._ ” Stan sounded like he was trying to be sexy, but he just sounded— well, drunk. Craig pushed him off entirely and got to his feet like a newborn fawn rising up on spindly, shaking legs.

“Yeah,” he answered. “We can just, ugh, we can go back to my room and hang out. I guess.” Stan visibly brightened at this.

“Oh yeah,” like he'd just reached some great epiphany, “you’re Kyle’s roommate! Duh.”

“Kyle’s not there,” Craig reminded him. And then he felt incredibly skeevy for stating what was only meant to be a simple fact, and his ears went hot, and he said nothing else. They made their way across the lawn and onto the sidewalk.

“Can you even remember how to get back?” asked Stan. “‘cuz you’re like, drunk and all.”

“Yes,” replied Craig with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t get retarded when I’m drunk. I’m not like you.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Stan replied. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what.”

“Uh,” Stan wrinkled his nose. “You know! The… arr-tard.”

“Christ,” Craig grumbled.

 

* * *

 

They nearly collided with the door to Craig’s building. And then it opened up before them, like magic. “The red carpet treatment,” uttered Craig, and Stan laughed heartily.

“It’s an automatic door, stupid.”

“No shit,” Craig slurred back. “I live here.” They both surged forward with their arms on each other and as they made their way to the elevator, Craig caught a glimpse of blond at the corner of his eye. A flicker, really. _Tweek,_ he thought, but then rapidly shook his head. It was late and Tweek didn’t live in this building. It was just because he was drunk. Drunk, and stupid, and horny.

And he couldn’t move.

“Wait,” Stan was saying, and Craig realized that was the reason they were no longer moving forward. He’d gone still as a statue. “Uh, I think your boyfriend’s here.”

Craig whipped his head around. Tweek _was_ there, sitting in one of the chairs and staring right at them. He actually had all of his clothes on, and even though he looked weary, nothing else about him appeared disheveled or disorganized. He almost looked _normal_ _._  Guilt churned first in Craig’s belly and then rose up in him like he’d just doused himself in cold water. Abruptly, he pulled himself away from Stan, and realized too late it probably just made him look even _more_ guilty.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, stupidly. He was expecting Tweek to get angry, somehow, angry and maybe even jealous, possessive. Indignant. But instead, Tweek's gaze immediately dropped to his feet, like he was afraid of what Craig might find in his eyes. The way he got sometimes when they were a little younger, a little stupider and more naive, and he looked so sweet and sad that Craig remembered all over again how he was so fucking in love with him that it hurt.

“Ugh,” Stan said beside him, and then he was heading for the door. “I’ll see you later, dude.” Craig didn’t realize until he’d left the building entirely that the polite thing would have been to say goodbye.

“Babe?”

He knew he was visibly, unquestioningly drunk, especially with the way he lumbered closer. Craig was trying to approach him carefully, like a wounded animal, but his brain was still a jumbled mess and the first thing that came to mind was that time in 11th grade when Tweek randomly called him in the middle of the night with some weird shit about a class he wasn’t even taking, and Craig snapped at him, and then the next day he showed up at school with a busted lip and insisted he’d just chewed the skin off a little too hard. He wouldn’t meet Craig’s eyes then, either.

 _This is nothing,_ he’d confessed later, when they were alone in Craig’s room. _It’s the things he says that rip me apart. This is just to drive the point home._

“Craig,” Tweek asked quietly, without even looking at him, let alone acknowledging where Stan’s presence had been. “Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)!


	13. That's My Boy

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tweek blurted out as soon as the elevator doors closed.

Craig turned and stared at him.

Before they got there, Tweek had wrapped an arm around his shoulders under the guise of helping him keep his balance. Craig was more than glad to let him. “Tweek,” he said, and then trailed off, because he didn’t know what to say. The elevator dinged at his floor and then they were silent, again, as they made their way down the hallway and into the dorm that Craig shared with Kyle, but was—mercifully—unoccupied that night, since Kyle was out of town.

_But I’m the one who’s lost you, haven’t I?_

(And, dear lord, who knew what could have possibly happened if they hadn’t gotten derailed by this: he and Stan. His stomach churned again and the beer tasted stale and sour on his tongue. It would be wise to push those thoughts out of his mind.)

Once Craig shut the door behind them, he expected Tweek to drop some kind of bomb on him. Maybe, just maybe, this was _it._ The big one. The Conversation. He would reveal the Tumblr and his habit and they could go back to their lives, Craig could wrangle him into fucking rehab or _something_ and this would all be over, it’d all be clean.

He was an idiot.

Tweek just sort of stared at him, cutely chewing his lip like he didn’t know what to do with himself. It just meant this hadn’t been rehearsed, that it was impulsive, and suddenly just like that, Craig realized he was feeling impulsive, too. He caught Tweek’s face in his hands and deeply kissed him. Tweek immediately opened up for him, and his fingers dug into the shirt at Craig's back.

“Craig,” he whispered, and then hugged him tight. “Oh Craig, I’m sorry.” Craig held him, too. He couldn’t even be bothered to pretend that this wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

“For what,” he ventured.

“For being a piece of shit. For going all crazy on you.” Tweek buried his face into his shoulder. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me either,” Craig mumbled back. Their arms tightened around each other and he felt something sting his eyes, though nothing fell.

“Did I really turn into something unrecognizable?” Tweek asked him, his voice small. “Am I really that big of a monster?”

 _Yes._ “You’re not a monster,” Craig answered him. His head was starting to hurt a little. The buzz was going to clear soon and probably leave something worse in its wake. Fantastic. This was why he didn’t drink. “I never said I didn’t love you anymore. I just want the old Tweek back.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Tweek said. “The old me. I’ve— I’ve always been this way.”

“No, you haven’t.” Craig clutched at him tighter. “This, right now. This is like the old you. Gentle and nice.” He swallowed thickly, and then added, quietly, “ _this_ is my baby, right here.”

“ _Nnnnn,_ ” Tweek whimpered back at him—the affectionate kind—and he nuzzled into Craig’s neck. “As… as opposed to what?” he asked. “Mean? And crazy?”

“You’ve always been crazy,” Craig teased him. A little huff of breath, like a soft, wry laugh, escaped Tweek. “That’s what makes you unique. But lately you’ve been more than crazy.” _Lately, you’ve been absolutely insufferable,_ and Craig knew the reason, but he wasn’t supposed to. And so he was trapped, again, forced to play ignorant and second-guess his own explanations.

“I get mad at you all the time,” Tweek summed up for him. Craig made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t mean to! It’s just, all this shit at once, and you’re… you’re there, and I’m just sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Craig kissed the top of his head, golden fluff soft against his cheek.

“You’re right,” Tweek said. “You’re right. I wanna be nicer. I… I’ll be nicer, I want to be good for you. I want to be good _to_ you.”

 _Then get clean,_ Craig wanted to shout at him, a sudden painful twist in his chest. _Get clean and delete your stupid Tumblr._ Tweek’s dick from the previous night flashed across his mind, how hard and dark and thick it’d been, almost angry with the need that had surely been there for hours, and Craig was a stranger, and Tweek showed it to him anyway—for free. Craig’s mindset had been, _why do I get it for free,_ and _who else do you show it for free,_ and he immediately hated himself for it because how would charging him like one of those sugar daddies have been any better?

And he’d jerked off to it anyway, to those smokey images, and he felt so sick afterwards. Like he was committing some kind of Great Wrong, even though Tweek was the one lying to him in the first place.

“Craig?”

It wasn’t until Tweek questioned him, that Craig realized he’d gone rigid in his arms. He forced himself to relax, slowly.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just drunk still. Went to a stupid party.”

“I-I know,” Tweek said softly, patiently. “You came back here with Stanley.”

Stan. _Shit._ Fucking Stan. “Yeah,” Craig said, and just like that, the guilt returned. “Fuck. Babe, I gotta be honest with you. We kinda made out.”

Tweek drew in a deep breath. Was he about to lose his shit? “It’s… it’s okay,” he murmured after a moment, and Craig wondered if that wasn’t partly to convince himself, too. “You were drunk. It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Craig agreed with him. Because if he hadn’t been, there would have been no way that he’d get the idea in his head to let Stan kiss and grope him. Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even been broken up. They just had a fight that dragged out for several days. What was _wrong_ with him? “It meant nothing.”

“I know.”

They kissed again. Craig’s mouth found its way to Tweek’s neck and he sighed, hands sliding up against Craig’s shoulders. “You’re so tense,” he observed. “Get your shirt off and I’ll rub your back.”

“Nah,” Craig replied, in spite of himself. “I wanna suck your cock,” he whispered suddenly into Tweek’s ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Tweek’s expression shifted, eyes fluttering closed. He really did, though it was the drunkenness that emboldened him to say it out loud. He’d wanted to since those awful pictures from last night, to draw it in and kiss it all better, nurse the desperate need right out of him.

“Are you asking me,” Tweek goaded him on, “or telling me?” Craig bit at his earlobe and watched the little grin play around his mouth.

“Telling you,” he said. Tweek’s hands were on him then, grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up.

“ _Nnn._ That’s my boy.” When Craig reached to undo Tweek’s pants, he felt rough fingertips grab and hold onto his wrist. “Hang on,” Tweek said. “Take it off. Take it _all_ off, so I can still look at you.”

Craig didn’t even bother arguing with him. He peeled his shirt off the rest of the way, then dropped his pants, his briefs, kicked them all aside. Tweek sat down on his bed and he knelt down between his spread thighs. As if to indulge himself in what he’d initially talked about, Tweek’s hands were on Craig’s shoulders, kneading in slow circles as his jeans were unfastened and he was drawn out. Craig wasn’t going to tease him. He was ready to swallow him whole immediately, and he did.

His fantasy had included taking in all that swollen, hot skin, to soothe it, but Tweek was only half-hard at that point. Craig licked all around him anyway, and Tweek exhaled above him. “That’s good,” he breathed. “That’s so good, just like that.” Craig could feel him getting harder on his tongue, and that was something he enjoyed too, even if he couldn’t retroactively make him feel all better. He carefully rested his fingers against Tweek’s sack, and could practically feel the way the tender skin crawled. Tweek scratched down his back.

“ _Mmm,_ ” went Craig. He pulled his face back for a moment and gave his boyfriend’s dick an appraising look. He jacked it slow, a couple of times. Tweek purred at him. The tip of him glistened and Craig licked it all off. “You can fuck my mouth if you want,” he said, and then tipped his face forward again, because it sounded stupid when he said it. Tweek could make anything sound hot, but _he_ always felt like an idiot, and even with his inhibitions lowered Craig could still feel his self-consciousness slipping through.

“Oh, no, _nnn,_ no,” Tweek laughed quietly, his fingers laced together on the back of Craig’s neck. “I wanna enjoy this.” Craig clutched him in one fist, and went down on him again, sloppy little noises filling the empty air of the room. Tweek whined and circled his hips. Heat swam through Craig’s face and all the way down, like the warmth of Tweek’s dick in his throat was enough to burn him up from the inside out. “You, you like sucking my dick?” Tweek murmured, as if following up on his previous statement. “ _Ngh,_ like having me in your mouth?”

“ _Mmhmm,_ ” Craig sort of moaned around him. Tweek carefully brought his leg up between Craig’s thighs, and rubbed his shin against his groin. Craig gasped and rocked his pelvis forward.

“Jesus, you’re already hard.” Tweek’s voice was sinking into something of a low, husky growl. Craig nodded quickly, and gave a hard suck, in earnest. “You’re already so hard,” he breathed out again. “I might come just because of how hard you are. I love you, so much, oh fuck, that’s so good.”

Craig pulled his mouth off again, hand working over Tweek’s dick in fluid jerks. “Should I play with your ass or your balls this time,” he asked him, while Tweek sighed and arched his hips.

“ _Mmnnn,_ ” Tweek hummed, like he was in thought, like he really had to think about it. “My balls.” Craig dipped his head again to lash his tongue against them, and he gasped, and laughed breathily as he ran his fingers through Craig’s hair over and over. His blunt nails gripped the back of his neck. Craig cupped Tweek's balls in hand and went down on him again, swallowing, grunting around him like he was diving into a delicious meal.

He didn’t even think he’d be able to get it up after the booze in his system, but he certainly _was_ hard, as Tweek had noticed, and he parted his thighs and ground up against Tweek’s calf as it teased him.

“ _God,_ ” cried Tweek. “Oh, _god!_ I’m gonna come! Craig, I’m gonna come!” Craig pulled his mouth off again and Tweek let out a little growl of frustration; he slapped lightly at Craig’s face. Craig lifted it to watch him. “Don’t,” he hissed, and slapped at him again, while the heated words poured from him in a rush. “Bad, bad boy, you stopped, _nngh,_ you stopped and now you— now you think you’re gonna look at me like that? Like I’m gonna fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Craig said, flat yet defiant as he rubbed his fist over Tweek’s dick a couple of times. Tweek snarled down at him as his hands slid up into his own hair and tugged. His teeth sank into his lip and fuck, he was gorgeous.

“ _Bad_ boy,” Tweek scolded him again. His whole body was shuddering. Craig looked straight up into his eyes and slowly, gently kissed the head of his cock. Tweek mewled down at him and thrust his hips. “You want my dick? _Nngh,_ want my dick in your ass, huh? Say it. Say you want my dick.”

“I want it,” Craig murmured, still holding his gaze.

“Well,” Tweek teased softly, and smiled down at him. “You’re not gonna get it.” Craig groaned.

“Come on my face,” he said, and then he was jerking off Tweek, gliding up and down in quick twisting strokes with one hand and urgently rubbing his full, plump balls with the other. His chest went tight with desire as he feverishly panted out his words. “C’mon baby, come on my face, come all over me. Oh, please, baby. Oh please.”

“Yes,” Tweek choked out, and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m—I’m coming, oh _god_ —oh, _Craig!_ ” He completely dissolved, then, as watery come splashed onto Craig’s cheek and his lips, his chin, the hollow of his throat. Craig didn’t stop jerking on him until he was licking the remnants of it from the head of Tweek’s cock, and then he dragged his fingertips through the mess on him and popped them into his mouth.

He’d barely even had a chance to swallow any of it before Tweek was hauling him up, kissing him, fingers running through his hair. They shifted around and Tweek haphazardly shucked off everything but his boxers. Craig pulled him into his arms and held him there, against his chest.

“I love you so much,” Tweek whispered to him, and pressed his hand up against Craig’s mouth. Craig licked the palm of him in quick, desperate strokes and then Tweek reached down to touch him.

“J-just, ugh,” Craig sucked in a breath. “Just jerk me off, don’t need anything, m’kinda tired anyhow… _ah._ ” He arched his back when Tweek carefully took the foreskin between his fingers and rubbed it back and forth over the head of his dick.

“Fine,” Tweek replied, with a kiss to his temple. “But— but only ‘cause you’re tired. _Mmm,_ I love your beautiful cock.” Craig threw his arm over his eyes and rocked into his fist, and then the relief rolled over him in waves, and then it was over. He pressed his cheek against Tweek’s hair and shut his eyes.

When he came to a few hours later, Craig didn’t even remember falling asleep: his head was pounding, his bladder full, his arms empty. Dimly, the fooling around came back to him, but why was he alone? Tweek had left him in the middle of the night, used him, lied and _used_ and left him—but no; there came a rustle of movement beside him. Craig opened his eyes and there was Tweek after all, and he was getting dressed.

“Shit,” Craig grunted out, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Light was sneaking in through a crack in the curtains. He couldn’t even remember what time they’d gotten in last night. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“It’s Sunday,” Tweek whispered to him as he pulled on his shirt.

“Then where’re you going?”

“The studio.”

Right. The studio. Of course. Craig briefly pondered pretending to care about whatever project Tweek was working on, but then thought better of it. Instead he reached toward his nightstand and fumbled around for his phone. He came up with nothing. “Can you, ugh.” He made a vague grabbing gesture at the floor. “Can you hand me my pants.” Dutifully, Tweek plucked them off the floor and held them out. Craig shoved his hands in the pockets, and turned it over, and patted it, and shoved his hands in the pockets again.

Nothing.

“God damn it,” he groused. “Where the fuck’s my phone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)!


	14. Should Have Filmed It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, so I'm posting this as a present to myself. Many thanks again to all the silly little fics my friends have gifted me! I love you guys!
> 
> (If y'all wanna read them, they're in the Gifts section on my profile page!)

“God damn it, where the fuck’s my phone?”

Craig had this way about him; when he was in a shitty mood, he was sometimes a holy terror to be around. But all the same, there tended to be something endearing about his grumpiness, too. Especially since he was buck-naked, digging helplessly through the pockets of his discarded pants like it would yield the artifact he was looking for. Tweek, who had just finished pulling his clothes back on sans his socks and shoes, scratched his head.

“I haven’t seen it,” he said, and he wasn’t lying. He hadn’t. But the fact that it wasn’t in Craig’s possession _did_ account for the reason why he never responded to Tweek’s texts last night; why Tweek ended up just walking over here in the first place.

Only to find Craig practically wrapped around Stanley Marsh.

 _I was drunk,_ Craig reassured him last night. _It meant nothing._ But when things like that happen, do they ever truly _mean nothing?_

 _Of course they do,_ said the little voice of reason. _What you do with Kenny, does that mean anything?_

**_No. Fuck no._ **

And so Tweek realized he had no room to complain, and he tried to push the thought aside. Even if Craig had never messed around on him before (that he knew of, anyway). Even if Craig wasn’t supposed to have eyes for anyone else.

Tweek certainly didn’t.

“I guess it just came to life and crawled the fuck out of here, then,” bitched Craig. He was still standing there naked, with his dick hanging out and everything. Tweek reached out, and bit his lip in vain to stifle the grin that twisted his mouth, as he flicked it. Craig stared at him, and that just made him laugh aloud. “Stop that,” he said.

Tweek didn’t stop. He giggled in the back of his throat, and flicked Craig’s penis again, right on the little tapered cone of foreskin at the end. Craig snatched him by the wrist and pushed him down on the bed before climbing on top of him. Tweek made another grab for him, and Craig grabbed his arms and pushed them down.

“Where the fuck is my phone, Tweek,” he demanded, so serious it was comical, yet Tweek could see the flash of amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t _know!_ ” Tweek insisted, and burst out into laughter when Craig released one of his arms only to tickle his chest. “ _Stop!_ ” he cried, through his squeals. “I s-said— I said I don’t _know!_ ”

“I gotta piss,” Craig said, and immediately dropped his hands. He got up and fumbled around, pulled on a pair of briefs he found on the floor. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Tweek replied. He couldn’t, anyway. Craig still needed to sign him out. He laid back on his bed with a sigh and watched him leave the room, then folded his arms behind his head. It would be folly to say a weight had been lifted from his chest—it never would, not the one that was _permanent,_ having turned his lungs to lead and his ribs to iron, his heart to stone—but it was certainly a _relief_ to know Craig still wanted him.

_He’s only using you, son. When you hit rock bottom, he’ll be gone with the rest. You and I both know that. We both know that once I’m six feet under, you’ll be alone in the world. Then what will you do?_

The door opened again, and Tweek swung his legs off the bed. “How’s your dick?” he asked playfully.

“What?” It was Kyle. Tweek’s face went hot.

“Nothing,” he laughed. “Sorry, I— I thought you were Craig!”

“Obviously,” Kyle huffed, and stooped to kick off his shoes. Tweek thought about Stan again. _We kinda made out. It meant nothing._ Was Kyle aware of what happened, too? Had Tweek been the last to know about it? Judging by the look on Kyle’s face and his demeanour, it seemed that perhaps, he _was_ well aware of what Craig and Stan Marsh had done. He was looking rather fed up. Maybe this was the beginning of the end for them.

And if they broke up, Stan would be free to pursue Craig. Tweek’s whole body tensed up; his breathing quickened.

“Just the guy I was looking for,” Kyle snapped. Craig had returned.

“Uh,” he went. “What.”

“You know very _well_ what.”

Was this going to turn into a shouting match? Craig wasn’t really the shouting type, unless he _really_ got going. But he was also at least partially hungover. Tweek would bank on it. Craig exchanged a look with him.

 _You know very well, too,_ it said, like Tweek was supposed to back him up on this somehow.

He was really damn lucky Tweek loved him more than life itself and would do anything for him. Which included—apparently—defending him against the angry suitor of the guy he macked on behind Tweek’s back.

“Look—” Craig started.

“You realize you were enabling an alcoholic, right?” Kyle’s voice was curt.

“Whoa,” was Craig’s reaction. “What?”

“He means Stanley,” Tweek supplied for him.

“Oh,” said Craig. He casually scratched the side of his butt through his briefs and let out a burp, then wrinkled his nose like the taste was rancid in his mouth, which it probably was. “I didn’t enable anyone.”

“You _know_ Stan has a drinking problem.” Kyle fixed Craig with an angry stare, like he was someone’s disapproving mother instead of a 19-year-old university student. “He said the two of you got wasted at some party last night.”

“I guess I forgot,” Craig answered with a shrug.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“He’s not Stanley’s babysitter,” interjected Tweek.

“You don’t have to _babysit_ someone to realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re encouraging them to make the wrong decisions. Especially if they’re your _friend._ ”

“I wasn’t aware Stan and I were friends,” Craig quipped. Kyle made a loud scoffing noise and threw his hands up in the air.

“I forget sometimes that you don’t have a conscience,” he bit back. “Or a soul, for that matter.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Tweek grit his teeth. He was _not_ going to condone hearing the man he loved talked about that way. Especially since Craig had proven time and time again he _did_ indeed possess those things. It was just that only a small, selective group of people were worthy of them. “ _Nngh,_ Stanley’s an _adult._ He’s capable of making his— his own decisions. It’s not _Craig’s_ fault he’s a fuckin’ wino, man.”

Instead of being grateful, Craig just lifted a hand and rubbed at one of his temples, like this entire affair was beyond him to deal with.

“Oh, both of you just get the fuck out of here,” said Kyle. He was getting situated at his desk.

“It’s Craig’s room too!” Tweek retorted. Craig stepped between them and rested a hand on Tweek’s shoulder, in that _please shut the fuck up_ manner. Tweek’s features contorted into a scowl.

“Stan picked up your phone,” Kyle said. He ignored Tweek. “I guess he’s not the only one who makes terrible decisions.”

“Why didn’t he just give it to you,” Craig asked flatly.

“I just got back,” said Kyle, without even looking at him. He was booting up his laptop. Tweek had no clue where he’d been, nor did he particularly care. “We were texting.”

“Ugh,” Craig grumbled.

“Are you gonna go get it from him?” Tweek asked. The thought made him a little nauseous.

“I’m gonna have to,” replied Craig. “I mean, it’s my phone.”

“I’ll text him and let him know we’re coming,” Tweek said quickly.

“Oh, okay.” Craig rooted around on the floor and pulled on a shirt. “I thought you had to go to the studio, though.”

“This is more important.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” said Craig.

 _Don’t have to, or you don’t_ **_want_ ** _me to?_ “I would, _ngh,_ I would feel more comfortable if I did.”

“Okay.” Craig blinked, like something else was at play here that he didn’t understand.

 

* * *

 

Stan met them downstairs in the lobby. He looked a little surprised to see the both of them, even though it had been Tweek who texted him in the first place to warn of their impending arrival. “Oh, hey Tweek,” he said. Tweek’s whole body tensed up. But, for Craig’s sake, he merely offered up a strained smile.

“Good _morning,_ Stanley,” he replied.

“I’m tired and hungover,” said Craig. “Just give me my phone.” Stan dug around in his back pocket and fished it out. Craig immediately touched the screen and Tweek could see it: the notifications were still there, right on the screen, with the beginnings of the texts he’d sent.

_Im coming over ok? Im…_

_Why arent u answering_

_My heads a mess I just…_

_Craig I want to talk to…_

Tweek’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t say anything. He was supposed to be better than that now; he didn’t want to give Stan some kind of satisfaction, some kind of upper hand. Especially since they were looking at each other like they were about to start making out right then and there. Tweek’s nostrils flared.

He couldn’t stop picturing it. How they might have looked while they kissed. Stan, draped all over him, like they were last night. That hungry look Craig got in his eyes whenever he looked at Tweek, but for someone _else._ For fucking _Stanley Marsh._ Their mouths sealed together. Did they kiss with tongues? Probably. What red-blooded, American boy didn’t kiss with his tongue, even if he was terrible at it? Stan was probably an awful kisser, Tweek thought with amusement. Craig was a little sloppy in the beginning, but that faded away with practice, and it wasn’t his fault he was a virgin anyway. Tweek enjoyed showing him how to do everything.

How dare Stan walk in and try to piss all over everything they’d done, slather it with his nasty beer-soaked tongue. How _dare_ he.

“Your boyfriend’s all pissed off at me,” Craig said.

“Oh, jeez,” said Stan. “What’d he say?”

“That I was enabling an alcoholic.”

“Y-yeah, those were his exact words,” Tweek cut in, and he reached for Craig’s hand. The tension in him eased up, just a little, when Craig spread his fingers apart to allow Tweek’s to slip through, and then he gently squeezed back.

“Wow,” Stan said, and he looked a little pissed off. “That’s great. That’s so nice of him! Thanks a fucking lot, Kyle.”

 _Shit._ Stan couldn’t get pissed off at him. The last thing in the world Tweek wanted was to give _any_ reason for Stanley Marsh and Kyle Broflovski to set foot on the path to Splitsville, as Kenny would call it. “Well,” Tweek said quickly. “I mean, I mean, he’s probably just worried about you. Because he cares, y’know? He cares about you a lot.”

“Yeah,” Stan mumbled and rubbed the back of his head. “I know.”

“Anyway,” Craig said. “I’m going back to bed.” As he spoke, he reached down and casually scratched at his crotch, then gave his balls a light tug. Normally, his random moments of unabashed vulgarity in public were pretty fucking hilarious, but Tweek was horrified. Was this some kind of secret signal between them?

“Okay,” replied Stan, without even missing a beat. “Later, dude.” But then he paused. “Hey, we should hang out again sometime though. You’re hilarious when you’re drunk.”

“Sure,” Craig replied as he pulled his hand back out. “Maybe with less booze, though.”

“Do you have my number? I can’t remember if you have it or not.”

Tweek watched, wordlessly, _helplessly_ as Craig gave Stan his number. “Just send me a text or something,” he said.

Tweek squeezed his hand tightly as they left the building. “So,” he started once they were across the street, “how’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” was Craig’s answer. “So I’m going back to bed.”

“Poor thing.” Tweek lifted a hand to smooth back Craig’s hair, and tenderly kissed him on the temple. “You never really drink, do you? I wanna take care of you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I really don’t mind it!” Tweek insisted. “I love caring for you.”

“Kyle’s there,” said Craig, “and I just don’t want to deal with his crap.”

“You can come back to my place if you want!”

“And deal with Kenny instead? No thanks.”

“ _Nnnn._ ” Tweek must have looked upset, because Craig halted in his step.

“What is it,” he asked, in the flat way of his that went unspoken: _you’re flipping out again about something_ **_yet again_ ** _and I can tell, so don’t even try to lie about it._

“I just, _ngh,_ ” Tweek nervously fiddled his fingers together. “Why would you set your preferences to show your texts on the lock screen?”

Craig looked a little baffled by this completely reasonable question. “What,” was all he said.

“Your phone, Stan had your phone, and he— he could see the previews of all the texts I sent you. That stuff’s _private,_ Craig! He probably thinks… I’m sure he thinks I’m a psycho now.”

“I guess I just didn’t think anyone would look at my phone except for me.” Craig shrugged. His nonchalance in this situation only infuriated Tweek further. Tweek pressed his lips together, and when he said nothing to that, Craig grilled him again. “Okay, babe, something’s clearly up. Just be honest with me.”

“You—” Tweek cleared his throat. “You joked around with him. You joked right in front of me, about what happened, and offered to hang out with him again. Like it was some kind of special secret you two shared.”

“Ugh,” went Craig. “Honey, I have no interest in hanging out with Stan Marsh. I was just trying to be polite, or whatever.”

“Since when do you care about being polite?”

Craig rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, babe. It’s not a big deal.”

“I saw the way he looked at you!” Tweek insisted. “I _saw._ And then you grabbed your dick!” _You’re doing it again,_ he thought. _You need to chill the fuck out, or you’ll just send him right there. You’ll push too hard and then he’ll leave you and you’ll be_ **_alone,_ ** _just like Dad said._

“I was adjusting myself.”

“I don’t want you to talk to him,” Tweek said softly, and stared down at his hands. “He _wants_ you. I… I could tell. It wasn’t just a drunken mistake to him.”

“Babe, babe.” Craig caught his face in his hands. “Look at me, okay? Stan means nothing to me. I’m in love with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tweek whispered. Craig kissed him on the forehead.

“I know I fucked up,” he said. “That was why I was honest with you about what happened. I feel terrible. Can you ever forgive me?”

Just like that, the arrow was in his chest. “Of course I forgive you.” Tweek hugged him tight. “Of course I do! I’m sorry. I just, I’m so crazy about you, I don’t like the thought of _anyone_ else touching you.”

 _Dear god,_ he thought. _I’m a terrible fucking person._

“You don’t have to worry about that,” said Craig. “Listen, I actually don’t want to deal with Kyle, so I’ll come back with you if you want.”

“I do want,” Tweek said, and he eased up further as he found Craig’s hand again.

When they got back to Tweek’s dorm, Kenny was there, and he was feeding Rrose Sélavy a rat. He always seemed to have them in steady supply, but could never really explain how or why. Craig made a face, and turned his head; he made a noise like he was about to hurl. Tweek steered him toward his bed and flashed Kenny a glare.

“ _Kenny!_ ” he snapped. “Do you have to do that _now?_ ”

“It’s not like I knew you guys were gonna come back here and fuck,” replied Kenny.

“ _Nnh,_ we’re not fucking!” protested Tweek. “Craig doesn’t feel good and Kyle’s being a bitch.”

“So, you came back here to fuck,” Kenny quipped. Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Ugh,” was all Craig had to say, and he face-planted into Tweek’s bed. Tweek rubbed one of his shoulders.

“Poor sweet angel,” he said tenderly. Kenny made a retching sound.

“Now I’m the one who’s gonna throw up,” he said. Tweek went over to him and promptly struck him on the back of the head. Kenny just laughed at him. Tweek stooped down to get a better look into his snake’s habitat.

“Good girl,” he whispered. Rrose Sélavy had wrapped her prey in her shining coils, and she squeezed tighter, and tighter, compressed the life out of it. Tweek never really knew what to make of death. Sometimes it left him with a chilly, heart-stopping fear that sent ice coursing through his veins; sometimes the sensation of “not existing” sent his spirit slamming back into his body with such force he couldn’t breathe. But watching something else succumb to its inevitable demise, watching it slip away into the undiscriminating clutches of nature, there was something pure about it somehow. It was pure, and it was real, and he looked into the creature’s beady little eyes as the light inside slowly went out.

“Don’t even say it,” said Kenny.

“This is art,” Tweek whispered, enthralled. “I should have filmed this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Craig and Tweek seem disgustingly, unrealistically sappy, that's intentional. Enjoy their fluff while it lasts...
> 
> Feel free to follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)!


	15. It's Not Me, It's You

“Oh my god,” was the first thing out of Bebe’s mouth when she opened the door. “If my mind ever goes like this, please promise you’ll put me out of my misery.”

“I’m _not_ going to promise that,” was Kenny’s reply. He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Tough day?”

Bebe made some kind of dry scoffing sound in her throat, forehead crinkled, and waved her hand dismissively. They headed for the same place they always did when Kenny showed up there, often with his shadow in tow: the basement. “No Tweek tonight, eh?”

“Nope, no Tweek.” Kenny didn’t even bother to mask the sigh of relief that clouded his words. It wasn’t like he didn’t _love_ the guy, but sometimes he really just needed a serious break from his shit. He dropped his backpack onto the floor and stretched out his arms. It had been a long day. Bebe tugged off his jacket, and didn’t stop there: she pulled at his shirt, too, and Kenny grinned at her. She met that smile by kissing him, and he reached for her blouse, unbuttoned the whole thing like a gentleman and slid it from her shoulders.

“So how’s Rose?” Bebe asked. With an impish grin, she backed Kenny up until they collapsed onto the bed, and crawled over him with her breasts spilling out of her bra. He reached around to unhook it.

“Never call it that around you-know-who,” he remarked.

“Well,” said Bebe, “he’s not here right now, is he?” She sounded annoyed, yet didn’t protest when Kenny slipped the undergarment over and off her arms. In fact, she was the one who moved next, to pluck open Kenny’s jeans and fondle at his half-hard dick.

“The snake is fine,” Kenny said, a touch more tersely than he would have liked. If Bebe was irritated with him for mentioning Tweek, then she shouldn’t have brought up his stupid snake in the first place. What the Hell did she expect? He traced his fingers down her upper body and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth when she pulled him out through his boxers. “I know what you’re doing,” he teased.

“Do you?” Bebe asked coyly as she bent over him, and her long curly hair brushed along his ribs.

“You’re gonna make a mess.”

“You _like_ when I make a mess.”

“Yeah,” said Kenny, and folded his arms behind his head with a grunt as she licked the tip of him. “I sure do.” Bebe pushed her ample bosom up around him and he thrust up, just once. She was wearing one of those tiny crosses on a gold chain and it made her tits look even prettier like this.

“Yeah, big boy,” she said when she’d fully woken him up, and wantonly narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you like.”

Kenny’s gaze was fixated on that little necklace as it swung and weaved around and, occasionally, tinkled like a tiny little church bell. “Does Jesus like it when you titty-fuck guys?”

“What?” Bebe laughed.

“This thing,” and Kenny indicated the token of her faith. With his penis. He thrust upward again and tried to snare it. He failed miserably, but the point was made.

“I only bare my tits for one man,” Bebe replied, and haughtily tossed back her hair.

“Is it the Lord? Are you titty-fucking for the Lord?”

“ _Jesus_ isn’t here either,” Bebe scoffed. “And you’re not funny. Shut up.”

“Either,” Kenny echoed, but he did shut up after all, and smiled up at her. She smiled back. He really did wish they could have a moment one day, just one moment, where the world would fall away and it’d just be the two of them. He was that much in love with her. Unfortunately, the world wasn’t magical and it couldn’t be washed away, and neither could the other person who occupied his emotions—sometimes, the great ones, many times, the bad. One day, that would become hate, he was certain; and even hate wouldn’t destroy the poison of him.

He reached down, and took himself in hand, and splattered all over her breasts and the crotch of his boxers. For some reason it reminded him of candle wax.

“Take off your pants,” said Bebe. Kenny dragged the back of a hand over his forehead. Before he could even react, she was doing it for him: they were taken down, and he moved wordlessly to aid in her efforts. His dirty jeans thumped to the floor and his boxers came off too, but then they were in her hand.

“You keep them,” Kenny drawled out when she finished wiping off her tits and gracefully offered them up.

“Fine.” Bebe dropped them on the floor. “We need to talk.”

Shit. That was definitely the doghouse voice. Kenny sat up cross-legged. It was not lost on him that he was entirely naked, and she was still clothed from the waist down. “Sure."

Bebe closed her eyes like she was trying to choose her words carefully, or perhaps hold tight to all the strength in her. Kenny hoped it was the former; she was always a lot stronger than him. “He can’t come over here anymore.”

He knew this day would come; why was it so difficult to face reality now? Kenny breathed through the afterglow that was still in him. “Okay,” he said carefully, because he didn’t want to come across as combative. “What made you change your mind?”

“It’s _my_ place,” Bebe snapped at him anyway. “I don’t have to justify anything.”

“Whoa, hey, hey!” Kenny reached out and rubbed a hand over her shoulder. She didn’t tense up at his touch. “I’m on your side, baby. I just want to understand.”

Bebe didn’t say anything for a moment. She drew in a few deep, lingering breaths, and turned to look him in the eyes. “I don’t like him,” she said with deliberation.

“Did he do something to you? Say something to you?”

“No.” Bebe still held his gaze. “I just can’t take it anymore.”

Tweek was going to hit the fucking roof when Kenny delivered the news; he knew that for a fact. And he silently cursed himself for even letting his mind tangle around that thought, when what was supposed to be worlds more important sat right before him. “You seemed to like him just fine before,” he said, and inwardly cursed himself. That didn’t come out the way he wanted it to.

“Yeah,” Bebe laughed bitterly and rose to her feet, “because I tried to tell myself, well at least you looked _hot_ together!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No!” She was raising her voice. “I can’t believe you’re even fighting me on this!”

“I’m _not,_ ” Kenny defended. “Just tell me the truth! What did he do to you?”

“Nothing! He didn’t _do_  something, he just—” Bebe kind of just flailed her hands in the air, like it was beyond description. And Kenny knew it was, but he found himself _wanting_ a reason, any reason, something tangible. _Anything_ he could work with, so that he didn’t have to face the truth. “He’s just _not good,_ ” she finished. “He’s not good, and I already have all this shit to deal with. I can’t handle him anymore.”

“Okay,” Kenny said quietly. “Okay.” _He is good,_ came the silent justification. _He just does bad things._ Tweek had said that once about someone who mistreated him, too. And Kenny's blind reassurance didn’t seem like enough, because Bebe wasn’t calmed by his answer. Her breathing came out harder, quicker, cheeks flushed in a way that was definitely more than just exertion from fooling around. A few quick, angry strides took her to the nightstand, and she opened up the little cubby-space there, yanked out the baggies with their murky crystals and dirty, clouded pipes.

“This,” she bit out. “I want _this_ shit gone, too. I want it all _gone!_ ”

“I’ll get rid of it,” Kenny promised her. She tossed—no, practically _threw_ the whole lot at him. “Why are you so pissed off at me?”

“Because!” she practically shouted. Then she seemed to get the better of herself. “Because,” and her voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, “I don’t understand how you can hang around someone like him.”

“He’s my best friend.” He was there long before she entered the picture, but Kenny was wise enough not to point that out. “I won’t bring him around here anymore, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got dragged into his bullshit.”

“It’s watching _you,_ ” Bebe retorted. “It’s not me who’s getting dragged in. It’s _you._ ”

Kenny’s lips parted, but he didn’t know what to say to that.

“I hate that you’re friends with him. I hate that you’re fucking him.”

“Wait,” Kenny cut in, “we aren’t fucking.”

Bebe didn’t seem to hear him. “I _hate_ that he’s in your life!”

Something thick and vile gathered in Kenny’s throat. He swallowed it down. “Are you asking me to choose between you, or something?”

“ _No,_ ” and Bebe uttered another short, wry laugh. “Fuck, no. I’m not _that_ stupid.”

“Really?” Kenny advanced on her, his jaw tightened—no, all of him was wound up, tightly coiled. “Because it sounds like it. It fucking sounds like it.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Bebe shoved at him. It didn’t really do anything. “I already know what would happen! I wasn’t born yesterday!”

“Do you?” Kenny was raising his voice, too. “ _Do_ you? Because I don’t think you have a _fucking_ clue!”

“Is that what you want?! That it's him or me?” She picked up his rumpled jeans and tearfully hurled them into his chest. “Get out. Get _out,_  just get the fuck out of my house!”

“Like hell I will.” Kenny pulled her close, and she let him. “I would make that choice,” he said quietly, while Bebe wept into his chest. “I would. If you need me to make it, just ask me. Just ask me to, and I’ll do it.”

Bebe sniffled hard, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I'm not going to ask you that,” she rasped out. “I just don’t want to lose you, _really_ lose you. You know?”

“You're not gonna,” Kenny reassured her. “We have a great thing, a real thing, and I'd die before I let anything come between us.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” Bebe murmured as she reached for the tissues. After she cleaned up, Kenny caught her face in his hands and kissed her.

“It's gonna be okay. I got this shit under control, you know I do.”

“I guess,” she acknowledged with a nod.

“Good.” Kenny skimmed his fingertips along her waist. “Now get the rest of this off. You're makin’ me feel underdressed.”

Bebe managed to laugh, and she shimmied out of her jeans and everything else, and he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Everything was good after that— _very_ good—at least for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

When he left the next morning, Kenny had a pile of bullshit in his glove compartment, and a whole lot of explaining to dig out. He pulled out his phone.

“ _Mhhgggh… what._ ” Tweek’s voice was raspy, thick like he'd been pulled from a long sleep. Kenny was too irate to be glad for him.

“Meet me in the parking lot,” he said. “We’re going for a drive.”

There was a rush of static as Tweek breathed right into the phone, and then the sound of another, deeper voice behind him: very obviously his stupid mope of a boyfriend. “ _…_ _wants something, I dunno,”_ Tweek was saying as his voice faded back in.

“You better not have pushed the beds together again,” Kenny grumbled at him.

“ _Huh?_ ”

“Nevermind.” Kenny let out a sigh. “Anyway, get your pants on. I’ll be there in ten.”

The line went dead after that. For all Kenny knew, Tweek just went back to sleep. But he was there when Kenny pulled up: waiting for him in a brown faux-vintage shirt that hung past his waist—too loose on his skinny shoulders—and faded navy Carhartt’s. He threw open the door, got in without a word, and promptly kicked his feet up on the dash.

“Cut that out,” Kenny snapped. “This isn't a joyride.” Tweek scrubbed his knuckles across his eyes, but did as he was told. The darkness around them, it seemed permanently etched into his skin, even after sleep.

“What did you want?” he grumbled.

“Here.” Kenny fumbled around in the little compartment between the seats and came up with a warm stick of gum. “Hope you didn't kiss that country bumpkin goodbye.”

“Shut up.” Tweek unwrapped and popped it into his mouth. “You woke me up and you, you said ten minutes. Jesus, I still feel like I'm sleepwalking.”

“ _Did_ you sleepwalk?” Kenny knew he was stalling.

“I don't… sleepwalk, Kenneth, just tell me why you dragged me out here. Why am I here?”

“Yeah.” They’d gotten back onto the country road at that point, mercifully out of town. “Open the glove box.”

He did.

“Well?” Tweek didn’t seem to have a reaction for him, and Kenny didn't even bother trying to mask his frustration.

“Kenneth, why is there meth in your car?”

“Stop calling me that.” Kenny silently counted to ten. “That don't look familiar to you?” he prompted.

“Oh,” said Tweek, and then it must have clicked, because his eyes went wide. “ _Ohhh!_ Jesus, what the Hell happened?”

“If you said or did anything to her,” Kenny stated firmly, “I'm giving you the opportunity to come clean right now.”

“ _What?!_ ” Tweek practically shrieked that out. “ _Me?_ ”

“She was pretty fucking upset last night.”

“I'm _gay!_ ” yipped Tweek. “Why would I come on to your fucking _girlfriend?_ Jesus, Kenny, use your head for once!”

“Well, you're not welcome there anymore. So congratulations, on whatever the fuck you did, because she put up with so much of your shit—” Kenny grit his teeth, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I did _nothing_ to her!” Tweek slammed the glove box shut. “Just lemme talk to her, lemme talk to her, I can… I know I can clear this up!”

“Oh, no,” Kenny fired back. “You're not gonna talk to her. In fact, I don't want you to come within ten yards of her, ever again.”

“What the fuck, Kenny! What the fuck is your _problem?_ ”

“My problem,” growled Kenny, “is that I have all this _shit_ to deal with! _Your_ shit! I have _my_ life to focus on and fix, and yet I'm right back here again, with this _bullshit,_ with _you—_ ”

“Just,” Tweek tried to cut him off, and Kenny couldn't even look him in the face, “just—”

“ _No!_ ” Kenny punched the dashboard in his fury. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tweek flinch sharply. He didn't care. He didn't even fucking care. “I'm _sick_ of this shit! I’m sick of _you!_ I want a _normal life!_ A normal! Fucking! Life!” He pounded the steering wheel with every fragment, and on the last one, the horn beeped sharp and quick in protest. “Did you steal from her?! Did you go apeshit on her when I wasn't looking, and freak her out, you crazy fucking crackhead?!”

“Please stop, stop yelling at me!”

“What did you do?! What the _hell_ did you _do?!_ Just tell me the goddamn _truth, Tweek!_ ”

Tweek didn't tell him jack shit, because he had shrunk back against the door, hands curled around his ears, face buried in his arms. He was trembling like a terrified rabbit, and the noises he made sounded like a bizarre combination of choking, whimpering, and hyperventilating all at once. Remorse bubbled up inside of Kenny.

“Shit,” he muttered, and he pulled the car over and shut the engine off. “Shit. I'm sorry.” He reached out, tentatively, to lay a hand between Tweek’s shoulders. Tweek immediately burst into tears, but he didn’t jolt away like Kenny expected. “Please don't cry. I'm sorry,” Kenny repeated quietly, and slowly dragged his palm up and down his back.

Several more minutes passed before the quaking slowed, and the rigid muscles began to slacken, and Tweek’s childlike little sobs died down. Kenny gently pulled him into his arms, best he could given where they were sitting, and kissed his forehead. “I di— I didn’t,” Tweek choked out. “I didn’t, I tried to be nice like you said, I didn't mean to.”

“Didn't mean to what?” Kenny asked quietly.

“Whatever I did to make her hate me.” Tweek rubbed his nose against his sleeve and sniffled loudly. It left a gross, silvery slug trail behind.

“I know,” Kenny sighed out. “I know you didn’t. You never mean to do these things.”

“Do you hate me now?” Tweek’s voice was small. “I… I can go away if you want. You never have to see me again.”

“No,” said Kenny. “No, I don't hate you, you know I love you. You know I love you, c’mon.” He kissed the top of Tweek’s head, and that mangled yet surprisingly attractive bed-hair tickled his nose, and Tweek lifted his head to look at him with those shining, sad, beautiful green eyes of his. Those stupid fucking kicked-puppy, orphaned-fawn eyes that ruined him every. damn. time. “Jeez,” he wryly remarked. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Don't leave me,” Tweek whispered. “Please don't, please, please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Kenny reassured him. “I won’t, you know I wouldn't be able to.” He kissed him gently on the lips. The gum had freshened him up, but Kenny knew he would have done it anyway. He tasted like salt. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I forget sometimes.” He cupped the side of Tweek’s face, and stroked a thumb over one of his pale cheekbones. “Forgive me?”

“Uh-huh,” Tweek said, and pulled the hem of his shirt up so he could use it as a makeshift handkerchief again; he rubbed it over his eyes with another sniffle. Kenny kissed him again, and those lips parted for him, just a little, so their tongues could softly brush together. Kenny’s fingers sifted through Tweek’s hair, and he relaxed further.

“All better now?” he murmured against Tweek’s mouth, and felt his answering nod. Kenny finally sat back, because the position was starting to become uncomfortable, though he kept a careful hand on his friend’s shoulder. “That’s both of you now,” he remarked with sad amusement. “Both of you, in a span of less than 24 hours.”

“She was crying?” Tweek wiped his nose on his sleeve again.

“Yeah.” Kenny didn’t want to talk about her anymore. “Don’t worry about it. She just, I think she just can’t handle the crystal anymore, y’know? With her mom and everything.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Tweek asked hoarsely. “What are we gonna do? You’re not,” and Kenny could actually see his throat work as he swallowed hard, and his hands shook, “you’re not gonna trash it. Tell me, please, you’re not gonna get rid of it.” Even with how weary he’d become, the frantic timbre of his voice was obvious. When Kenny hesitated in answering, Tweek grabbed onto his arm. “K-kenny? Kenny, we can’t trash it, oh god, don’t trash it!”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Kenny tried to soothe him. “I’m just thinking. I’m trying to think of where we can go.” He ran a hand over Tweek’s hair and watched as he chewed his lip. “Any ideas?”

“Just one, but…” He shook his head quickly. “No. No, fuck no. No, I don’t want to!”

It clicked in Kenny’s mind just as fast. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ll only go there as a last resort.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Tweek lamented softly. “I, _ngh,_ I can’t go to class now. Not today. C-can I? Please? Just this once?”

Kenny shut his eyes and dragged in a deep breath. In a way, it _was_ his fault: if he hadn’t triggered the poor kid, he probably wouldn’t be freaking out this badly, the desperate need to take the edge off wouldn’t have dug its claws in.

“I slept for like, all weekend, and, and Craig, he has no idea, but maybe he does, I don’t fucking know.” Tweek continued to ramble as his hands twisted in his shirt. “I don’t know, _nnn,_ I don’t know and I just, I wanna die right now. It feels like I’m dying right now, and I wanna die. Please, Kenny, please.” Those fucking eyes again, they were on him, and Kenny had been stripped of his armour.

“Just this once,” he curtly replied. “Just this once, and then never again. You know that shit stays out of my car.”

“Thank you,” Tweek whispered over and over, almost like a chant, as he opened the glove box once more. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr!](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


	16. Dance, Love, Sing, Live

“Don’t even bother,” Kenny said. “It's already stashed over there.”

Tweek hadn’t actually made a grab for the glove box, only made a poor show of trying to avoid looking at it. But he was too worked up to hide his nerves, he supposed, and Kenny had learned to read him over the years. He scratched all the way up his own arms, shoulders hunched nearly up to his ears, and turned his gaze out the window.

“ _Nng._  So… so where’re we going anyway?” he asked, and idly picked at a scab. He’d lost track of when the last time was, the last time when Kenny relented and let him get spun in his car. The last time when the wedge started to thicken between them. The last time when they had to, they just _had to_ find somewhere else to go, or Tweek would have to face his father again, his own personal monster that roosted under his bed and always, always, always dogged his every step, always knew him.

It had to have been at least a week.

Kenny huffed out a laugh, like he was being ironic somehow. “Well,” he began. “Well, okay.” His tongue darted out over his lip. “Remember in 11th grade when I was fucking that college chick, and you guys didn’t believe me?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah.” Tweek laughed. “Because you were making the whole thing up. Weren’t you?”

“Nope. I was actually—”

“I thought that’s how it ended! You admitted you made the whole thing up!”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not how it ended.” Kenny shook his head. “That’s what you guys thought.”

“Oh!” Tweek blurted out. “Oh, now I remember! You, you wouldn’t show us a picture of her, that was why. That was why we thought you were lying!”

“Yeah. It was a very dark time in my life.”

“Was it?” Tweek cocked his head.

“Anyway, she was a total butterface, but I was too embarrassed to admit it. And I wasn’t gonna start pulling up fake pictures either, because if you bozos _did_ find that out, you never would’ve let me hear the end of it.”

“What the Hell is a butterface?”

“You know,” Kenny replied. “She has a hot bod, but her face…”

A straight thing. It was definitely a straight thing. Tweek couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “That’s so, _ngh._ That’s so hetero, man.”

“I guess.” Kenny shrugged at him. “She was basically Sasquatch’s head on Megan Fox’s body.” Tweek barked out a laugh at that. “It was a _really_ dark time in my life,” Kenny reiterated.

“So that’s where we’re going?”

“Yep.”

Tweek twisted his hands around in his lap. “Does… does Bebe know you’re doing this?” Kenny visibly tensed up.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“She’s okay with this?”

“Tweek.” Kenny’s voice took on that firm edge, like he was a child who trampled over the grass, and he needed to be reminded of his place on the sidewalk. “Mind your own business.”

“Jeez, sor- _ry._ ” Tweek rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to the window. They were pulling into what looked like a trailer park, the road shifting into dirt and gravel. They were surrounded by pine trees, but that was nothing new. Tweek’s body was betraying him again. There was a random tic in his leg, which led him to continuously slap his thigh like he’d just found a mosquito, and his head wouldn’t stay still. His whole body gave a jolt and he let out a frustrated growl, and pressed both hands to the side of his head, as if he could steady his skull and by proxy, his spine, his nerves, everything.

“We’re almost there,” Kenny reassured him. “Just sit tight.”

“I’m _trying,_ ” Tweek hissed. Couldn’t he see he was fucking _trying?_

He was jittering like crazy by the time they got to the door. Kenny rubbed the top of his head like he was a stupid pet or something, and then knocked. It echoed in the dry, warm air of the woods, everything painted in an ominous sepia, and though Tweek knew it was really just because the sun was going down it felt like a sorry reflection of his inability to stay grounded, too. The seconds dragged on, and he let out a low whine. Anticipation wasn’t just gnawing in his belly; it was hunger, and it was in every cell of him.

“She’s not home,” he whined, hands going into his hair. “Oh god, what if she’s not home?! Let’s break in, we should just break in and get it, th-there’s a window right there, there’s—”

“Calm down, Tweeky,” Kenny said. Tweek bristled.

“Don’t start with that shit, man!” he shouted. “I am calm!” Kenny rapped on the door again, and it flew outward.

“I was taking a shit!” yelled the woman on the other side. Tweek’s eyes widened slightly when he saw her. Kenny hadn’t been lying. If Tweek were straight, and he were writing home, and he had to assign the phrase ‘bag over her head’ or ‘butterface’ or whatever, he’d probably give that title to this chick, too. Her face was set in a seemingly-permanent scowl, and Tweek could see the thin dark hairs that connected her eyebrows together from where he stood. She had really nice teeth, though. _Really_ nice teeth, they were picture perfect. Too bad the rest of her wasn’t.

“Well, here we are!” Kenny brightly greeted her. His friend—or ex or mistake or _whatever_ —fixed her beady eyes squarely on Tweek’s face.

“Who the hell,” she snarled, “is _this_ turd?!”

“Yeah,” Kenny said and scratched the back of his neck. “This is Tweek. Tweek, Shelly.”

“What the Hell kind of turd name is ‘Tweek’?”

“J-just,” Tweek whined. This was completely unnecessary, he wouldn’t have given a shit even if this chick _was_ Megan Fox. “ _Nnfff._ Just, can we? _Kenny!_ ”

“Look, the kid’s a mess. Can’t you see how he’s a mess? Anyway, we need a place to smoke, like I told you.”

“Tweek,” repeated Shelly. “Tweek the turd.”

“Christ!” Tweek shrieked, and his fingers twisted in his hair again, tugged until his scalp tingled. “Fix! _Fix!_ ”

“Fine, okay,” Shelly acquiesced, and stood aside to let them in. “But only if you hold up your end of the deal, turd.”

“What deal?!” Tweek couldn’t recall making any deals with this beast. Panic surged up in him. Did Kenny fucking sell him out?

Kenny gently shushed him. “Yeah, our deal. Sit down, Tweek. We’ll be right back.”

Tweek did just that. He was surprised by the overall decor of the place. He’d been expecting some kind of trashy place with old furniture and outdated wooden panels or something, but the walls were painted, the furniture was modern and there were decorations on the walls. Framed pictures of flowers, animals, and inspirational quotes. There were letters stenciled on the walls, too, and there were some of those sticky decals you’d find in a low-rate department store. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and worried, sucked at the fatty skin, stared down at the ugly grey and yellow pattern between his legs. Were they meant to be flowers, or vines? Were they losing their petals, or was that meant to be an accent of some type? Was he meant to care about this, about any of this? And where the fuck _were they?_

“…not gonna fuck you,” he heard Kenny saying as their voices drifted back into focus. The baggie rustled in his hand. Just looking at it made Tweek jerk in his seat, and his legs thumped against the floor, over and over. His eyelid twitched. It felt like they were going in slow motion.

“I don’t _want_ to fuck you _or_ this skinny turd!” Shelly shouted back, like the very notion offended her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Kenny quipped as he poured out some of the crystals and set about preparing the pipe. “You’re with that dude who’s like, 50.”

“He’s 34!”

“Here you go, Tweek,” Kenny said. Tweek lit up and inhaled deeply, felt the hunger leave him; the prickling in his skin subsided. He was ready to take on the world again. “Shelly’s a skank, but she has good shit. I get it from her sometimes.”

“Thank _god,_ ” Tweek breathed out, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “I was about to just fucking snort it!” He took another hit before he felt too stir-crazy to remain seated on the couch, so he got to feet and paced around the room while Kenny and Shelly smoked themselves out, too. Shelly had a lot of stupid little pictures in brown wood and grey metal frames, arranged like the very act of this forced collectivism was art in and of itself. It wasn’t. Dear fucking god, there was _nothing_ in this place that even deserved the title. The inside of her trailer looked like a fucking Wal-Mart spread.

With his mind having quieted again, and that sense of _rightness_ filling him up, Tweek took a closer look at the quote plastered over one of the walls.

 

 **_Dance_ ** _as though no one is watching,_

 **_Love_ ** _as though you’ve never been hurt,_

 **_Sing_ ** _as though no one can hear you,_

 **_Live_ ** _as though heaven is on earth._

 

“ _Uuugh,_ ” he groaned aloud.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Shelly snapped, “is my home too _nice_  for you, turd?”

“Yeah,” Kenny answered before Tweek could. “It’s kitsch as fuck, look how sick you made this poor guy.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not right fucking here!” Tweek snarled at him. Sometimes Kenny did that _just_ to annoy him.

One of the walls had an arrangement that looked like a set of actual photographs, not tacky prints, and he drew closer to inspect them. They, too, were surrounded by stupid “inspirational” words: like _Family,_ and _Strength,_ and _Laughter._ Many of them looked older, like they were taken a decade or so ago, with a disheveled, moustached man, a completely average-looking woman, the sasquatch on the couch and a smiling, dark-haired boy. He was playing with a dog in one of the pictures. Out on the edges, though, a group portrait in particular grabbed Tweek’s eye.

They were older. The father’s moustache was streaked with grey. The mother looked careworn, exhausted, well beyond her limit. And that little boy…

“What the fuck?” shouted Tweek.

“That’s my _family,_ ” Shelly snapped back.

“Is that Stanley?!” Tweek jabbed a finger against the glass, right on his stupid bright, smiling, good ol’ boy face. “That’s Stanley!”

“Oh, right,” Kenny laughed. “Shit! Yeah, this’s actually Stan Marsh’s sister. I forgot to mention that.”

“Is this a fucking _joke?_ ” Tweek whirled around, his eyes wide. “Are you fucking with me, Kenny? You’re _fucking_ with me!”

“He’s just my turd little brother,” said Shelly.

“Jesus fucking _Christ!_ ” Tweek shouted, and sank to the floor.

“Is he gonna like, freak out in Skyler’s and my new place,” he heard Shelly ask. Kenny made a couple of _tch_ noises and waved her off.

“Buddy, calm down,” he said.

“ _No!_ ” Tweek could feel his breath coming in short gasps. “Stanley, he’s… oh Jesus, what if he—! They’re best friends now! They’re fucking now!”

“What?” Kenny laughed through the word, like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of Tweek’s mouth. “Slow down, buddy, here. C’mere, have some more.” Tweek did; he scooted over to the side of the coffee table and Kenny placed the pipe in his hand. The smoke curled thick and white from Tweek’s parted lips, and Kenny patted him on the back.

“Stanley,” Tweek tried again, and let out a cough. “Stanley and Craig, man, fucking _Stanley,_ and _Craig._ ”

“Craig cheated on you?” Kenny quirked an eyebrow.

“Who the fuck is Craig,” Shelly cut in.

“That’s his—”

“The fucking _love of my life!_ ”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Kenny shrugged. “He really fucking cheated on you?”

“Yes, he did!” Tweek felt a hot, possessive anger bubble up in him.

“Oh boy,” said Kenny. “He’s this complete hick, a total bumpkin from South Park,” he clarified to Shelly. “And I guess now he’s getting fucked by your brother.”

“Don’t you fucking say that,” Tweek snarled, and he latched onto Kenny’s arm and dug in with his fingertips. “ _Don’t._ They made out at a stupid party, but I’m sure Craig’s fucking lying to me! He always does!”

“He does? —Christ, Tweek, you’re like a fucking rabid chihuahua or something. Let go.” Kenny shook him off.

“They aren’t fucking, not really, they just—” Tweek gnawed on his bottom lip and swiped a hand through his bangs. “They just, I _know_ they want each other. I know it!” A tight lump formed in his throat.

“So, let me break this down. Craig and Stan made out at… I guess a party, or the club or something. Craig came clean to you, because of course he would. And that’s all that actually happened between them, but you’re doing your thing again.” Kenny shook his head with a knowing smile, and lit up.

“I’m not doing a _thing!_ ” Tweek snapped back at him. “Jesus Christ, Kenny, what am I gonna do? Stan’s so much better than me. He’s handsome, I’m _sure_ he’s got a great body, he’s together, he’s, he’s, he’s…” He drew his knees up and pressed his face into them. “I’m gonna lose him!”

“I don’t wanna think about _Stan_ fucking _anyone,_ ” bitched Shelly.

“If you haven’t lost Craig by now,” Kenny remarked, “I don’t think you will.”

“And, and like. And like, the way their eyes meet. I can see it. I can _see it,_ in their eyes, man!” Tweek rammed his fists against the floor. “Stanley isn’t a waste of life like I am. Stanley’s _perfect._ I bet they have _all kinds_ of great times together, and he doesn’t have to worry about being around a _freak_ anymore!”

Shelly bust up laughing. “Stan’s not any of those things,” she said. “He’s a little turd. He’s a pathetic, worthless drunk. The whole family hates him, because he’s a stupid turd.”

“Nah,” Kenny said. “That’s just you. But she is right about one thing, Tweek. Stan has a drinking problem. Remember?”

“Better an alcoholic than a fucking meth-head,” Tweek grumbled.

“Like I said,” and Kenny reached out to squeeze his shoulder, “if you haven’t driven that dork off by now, you’re probably in the clear.”

“I don’t know,” huffed Tweek. “I don’t know! I bet his dick’s bigger than mine, too.”

“I mean, you have a pretty nice dick,” Kenny drawled, an overdone seductive quality to his voice.

“I don’t want to hear this,” Shelly snapped, and got up from the couch. “I’m gonna go work on my scrapbook. You turds can bitch about your stupid gay crap, just get the fuck out of my house when you’re done.”

“Bye, Shelly!” Kenny called cheerfully.

Tweek couldn’t believe Kenny actually stuck it in that horrid woman. But _that_ was little more than an afterthought. He tugged at his hair as his own fucking brain assaulted him, awful images of Stanley naked, Stanley’s dick, Stanley’s face in Craig’s ass, Stanley’s muscles glistening in the shower as Craig sucked him off, Craig taking his huge porn star dick like a champ—

“But seriously,” Kenny continued, and his voice ripped through Tweek’s thoughts like a fucking hacksaw. “Some of the shit you told me, I don’t think Stan can give him that. And you’re great at giving head.” He grinned.

“I’m not blowing you anymore, Kenny!” Tweek’s head shot up. Everything was a blurred mess of colour around him, like paint swirled together, and then Kenny’s face came into focus. “I’m never blowing you again, okay?! I fucking hate you, this is all your fault!”

Kenny cracked up. “How the fuck is it _my_ fault?”

“Because you— _nggghaaah!_ ” Tweek pressed his face into his hands. “I don’t know, I just don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t hate you, I love you and I’ll blow you again if you want! It’s not good, it’s, it’s, it’s, I’m a terrible fucking person, I’m a monster, but if I’m gonna lose Craig, I’m gonna, I gotta, oh _Jesus_ what is this shit, I think I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out, Kenny!”

“Obviously,” Kenny said. How the fuck could he be so cavalier about this? Tweek’s hand shot out for the pipe, but he pulled it out of arm’s reach.

“ _Kenny!_ ”

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, baby,” Kenny was talking to him like he was five years old. “It’s time to put it away now.”

“My— my dick’s really hard. I need, _augh,_ I dunno. Shit, Kenny!”

“I mean, you know what I’m gonna say.” Kenny licked his lips. “But something tells me that’s not gonna help the situation. So I won’t even bother.”

“ _No,_ ” Tweek sat back, then immediately jumped to his feet. “Take me home! Take me home, I need to stick it in something. I need to stick it in _him._ I’m gonna fuck him so hard he’ll never think about Stanley again!”

“Yep, okay,” Kenny replied. Was that a roll of his eyes? “You do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turd rock from the sun :)
> 
> Many thanks to rachhell for the hysterical couch conversation that spawned this bullshit, and the wonderful home decor advice. <3
> 
> Follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr!](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


	17. Personal Dumpster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just straight up problematic porn. The word "daddy" is dropped a couple times but I wouldn't really call it "daddy kink" just dysfunctional weirdness. Thought I'd warn y'all anyway.
> 
> Another piece of fanart! BlekYnn drew our favourite little meth-head right [here.](https://blekynn.tumblr.com/post/176536189460/i-cant-decide-do-i-love-him-or-do-i-hate-him-it) (Thank you so much, again! <3)

_bABY I have something for u_  
_Plz tell menus alone_  
_Im so fucking hard rn cant stop thinking about u how nice and tight you are, so smooth and hot, so perfect I hope ur alone I'm coming over and I'm gonna slide right in, gonna fill you up and you're gonna take my cock like a good boy you ARE a GOOD BOY right??_

_I'm alone._

 

(The next message was of Tweek's dick, swollen and wanting and pulled right through his boxers.) 

_Wow._

_yeah_  
_Just for you baby_  
_U alone all night??_

_I don't know. Kyle isn't here and his backpack and shit are gone. I don't know if/when he'll be back.  
Where even are you? _

_On my way back w Kenny itll be like an hour I'm going fucking insane_  
_You are mine I'm gonna remind you that your mine boy_  
_I'm gonna give it to you hard so hard I'm fuckin bending you over and going to town on that ass you want me to kiss you there want my tongue honey?_

_Yeah, ok._

_I want you on your hands n knees I want to go in deep fill you up_  
_I love you so much baby I want to just be in you and feel you want you to feel me_  
_I want your ass ready for me when I get there I want you nice and slick for me you hear me boy?_

_Yes sir._

_Put your fingers inside yourself finger your ass for me_  
_Open up that hole I want to think about you playing with yourself while im trapped waiting im already thinking about your sweet ass I want it I'm going tinfuck you so hard my angel_  
_I love you sweetheart so fuckibg much_

_I love you too  
I'm doing it now _

_Show me baby  
It's ok I'm in the bak seat show me your beautiful hole _

_[image]_

_Oh honey_  
_Oh God you're perfect ur so perfect I love you_  
_Ride your fingers for me but dont cum boy save it fornme_  
_Thinking about your sweet moans as I take you_

_And I'm thinking about your cock.  
I'm going to lose control I hve to stop, sir. _

_Relax baby are you nice and wet and ready?_

_Yeah  
Hard too _

_Good boy my perfect boy  
My angel _

 

Craig swallowed thickly. With the cessation of Tweek’s rambling eager texts came the clearing of the fog, too, and he breathed out shakily as he extracted his lubed fingers from himself and pulled up his boxers.

What the Hell was wrong with him?

He knew what was at play, but Tweek always knew how to get to him. Even with his shitty texting he knew the kinds of things to say that would turn Craig to putty, easily malleable in his hands. Perhaps it was because it left little to the imagination; Craig knew exactly what Tweek would sound like if he was breathing these filthy things into his ear or growling them into his back, and it wasn’t always like this, it didn’t start until last summer. Before that he was more gentle with his vocabulary, more vulnerable.

It didn’t matter, anyway. All of it ruined him. For a time there, Craig wondered if it was the difference between adults who were used to each other and fumbling, shy teenagers who were still learning each other’s bodies.

How naive of him.

He shuffled into the bathroom to wash his hands and that was when Craig’s phone buzzed with another message: Tweek was there. He was in the building, he was downstairs. He was probably hopped up like a fucking lunatic. As soon as Craig would lay eyes on him, he’d get hard all over again and his primed asshole would clench and he’d be putty, again.

None of these things happened when he went downstairs, though there was an awkward and uncomfortable smear of wet between Craig’s cheeks, and Tweek draped an arm over his shoulders and kissed his neck while he signed him in. The bored security at the front desk didn’t even bat an eyelash.

As soon as they got into the elevator, Tweek pushed his body up against Craig’s until he was pressed back against the wall, and grabbed his wrist. Craig knew he was going to try and press his hand up against his crotch so he could feel how hard he was already. He yanked away from Tweek’s grip, and was a tiny bit surprised he actually succeeded in doing so. “Calm down,” he said. “I think we should—”

“Talk?” Tweek finished for him. “You wanna talk, Craig? I’ll fucking talk! I’ll talk until you’re coming in your fucking pants!” He snorted to himself like this was a clever joke.

“Keep your voice down,” Craig told him. “It’s late.”

“Don’t forget the sock, _boy,_ ” Tweek laughed. Once they were safely in Craig’s room he leaned back against the door and grabbed him by the shirt, hauled him up close. For someone so fucking _skinny,_ Tweek was surprisingly strong.

“Tweek,” Craig said quietly, but then Tweek’s mouth was up against his, and he nipped at Craig’s bottom lip so he would open up to him, and he did. Craig slid his hands up into Tweek’s shaggy hair and Tweek’s hands were on his shoulders.

“I wanna fuck you,” Tweek panted against his mouth. “Gonna fuck you so hard, Craig. Feel this.” When he took Craig’s hand a second time, Craig didn’t protest; in fact, something dark and primal pulsed through his lower body when he felt Tweek’s cock through his pants. “Feel that,” Tweek rasped out. “Yeah, you feel that, you want that? Huh? Y’want it?”

“Yeah,” Craig whispered back. “Just, hold on. Hold on, babe.” He drew back and cupped Tweek’s face in his hands, studied it carefully. _Come clean,_ he silently begged. _Don’t let me catch you in a lie. Just_ **_come clean._ ** He managed this for about three seconds before Tweek slapped his hands away and jerked his head back.

“What the Hell are you _doing?_ ” he shouted.

“You’re on something,” Craig replied, unable to stop the anger from leaking through. “You’re fucking on something.”

“No I’m _not,_ ” Tweek protested, like a teenager who’d been caught smoking dope in his bedroom. His hands were shaking; he wouldn’t meet Craig’s eyes.

“Yes,” Craig ground out, and forced himself to steel his patience, “you are. You are, Tweek, I can tell.”

“I-it’s just—” Tweek irritably raked a hand through his hair. “It’s just, okay, I might’ve overdone it on the Adderall.”

“This seems like more than just Adderall,” Craig pressed him. Tweek shook his head back and forth.

“It is! I just, okay, my project’s due tomorrow and, and I— I’ve been busting ass to get it done, I really needed the boost.”

“Tweek,” Craig’s tone wasn’t far from interrogation, “what did you take. Just tell me what you took.”

Tweek’s breath was coming out in quick, rapid-fire little puffs. He looked like a cornered animal. Craig reached out and tenderly touched the side of his face.

“It’s all right, honey,” he said. “Just talk to me.”

“One,” he whispered. “Just one.”

“One what?”

“One line. I-it was just, it was one line.”

“Of what?”

“Coke.” Tweek was staring down at his feet when he said it. Craig felt every organ inside him deflate. Sweat sparkled on Tweek’s brow, wispy little golden curls sticking to his temples. He sniffled once and swiped the back of a hand over his nose. “I just, I just didn’t think it’d be this strong, maybe it’s an interaction or something, you know? I’m just, my heart’s pounding and I’m so fucking—” He was cut off because Craig had kissed him, didn’t want to hear anymore, no more of the lies that dug him in deeper and deeper.

The broken moment did nothing to quell Tweek’s eagerness. His long fingers tangled in Craig’s shirt, bunched it up on his back, and when Craig pressed a hand against his hip, he pulled him closer. Craig made a soft noise in the back of his throat when he felt the hard bulge of Tweek’s trousers rub up against him. He wondered if it was trapped again, not just in the confines of his clothing, but in its own existence; if it ached and throbbed and wouldn’t go away. Perhaps Tweek had touched himself on the way here, perhaps he bit his lip in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut, grimaced in pain when he couldn’t get himself to cum. Maybe that was why he needed Craig in the first place, his own personal cum dumpster.

Tweek drew back from him enough to pull off his shirt. Craig drew his fingers over his ribs, all the way up to touch his collarbones. His fingers brushed along the spray of blue flowers inked into Tweek’s skin. Tweek offered him a twisted, sultry, unmistakably sexy smile that made Craig’s stomach flutter even after being together for the years they had.

“Strip for me, boy!” he ordered. Craig did. He looked Tweek right in the eye and dropped his pants, then pulled off his shirt. His dick hung half-hard between his thighs and his nipples immediately grew hard in the sudden, open air. Goosebumps prickled along his arms.

Tweek grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him down over the side of the bed. Craig groaned, and pressed his hands flat against the cot, bare ass raised for Tweek’s view. Tweek’s fingers squirmed up between his cheeks and he automatically spread his legs for him. “You’re still wet,” Tweek observed, pawing at his hole. He dipped a finger inside and Craig gasped aloud. Once he coaxed the muscles open again it slid up into him. “Yeah,” Tweek breathed. “That’s it, that’s good, _nnh,_ so good Craig. So good. You’re so slippery, this’s gonna feel so good.”

“Uh-huh,” Craig managed to gasp out. Tweek spat in his hand and Craig heard the lewd sloppy sounds of him rubbing it over his dick.

“So good,” Tweek murmured again, and it sounded like he was talking to himself. “So good, it’s good, it’s gonna be _good._ ” There was a rustle of cloth and Craig didn’t bother to look, knew he was getting naked, this was only confirmed when Tweek pressed up against him again and he could feel the downy hair on his legs when he knocked him apart with his knees. Craig shut his eyes and grunted when he felt his asshole open up more, when Tweek pushed into him and didn’t stop; as soon as the tip had poked into him, he moved in quick shallow thrusts that pressed him deeper and deeper inside.

“How— _haah_ —” Craig thought he had something to say, to ask, but it sort of just dissolved on his tongue before the thought could even finish forming. Tweek’s hands squeezed him. “No condom this time,” he managed.

“Yeah, _ah,_ of course, of course no condom, of _course!_ ” Tweek was rocking steadily into him. “It’s, _hn,_ it’s mine anyway, right? Why would I need to protect myself? Or you? You need protection now, Craig?”

“No,” Craig grunted. “No sir, I do not.”

“It’s mine,” Tweek hissed. “This is mine, it’s all mine, I wanna hear it from your own mouth. _Nnh,_ from _your_ mouth, _boy._ ”

“It’s— it’s m— _yours._ ” Craig’s mind was slowly getting fucked apart, thanks to Tweek’s dick, again, yet _again._ “Yours, _ah._ ”

“ _Mine,_ ” Tweek huffed, and brought his hand down, slapped it against one of Craig’s cheeks. Craig always knew he didn’t have much of an ass, but the flesh rang out through his room anyway. “Yeah? C’mon, boy, say it again! _Again!_ ”

“Yours!” Craig whined out. “Yours!”

“Want more?” Tweek taunted him. “You, you like this, _love_ this, just _mine._ Just _mine,_ huh?”

“Yeah!” Craig groaned. He had no idea what Tweek was talking about, but it didn’t matter. All he could think about was more, giving him _more,_ deeper, harder. Filling him.

“You’re so tight,” Tweek breathed out. “So tight, so good. I’m gonna, _ah,_ fuck you so good, so deep, gonna get so deep.”

“Please,” Craig choked out. “Oh, _please._ ”

“My dick, y’want my dick? Want more of my cock, boy?” Tweek’s mouth was somewhere in the vicinity of between Craig’s ear and the back of his neck. “Want my cock, boy? Say it, _nnn,_ gotta hear you say it, say it for me.”

“Yeah,” gasped Craig. “Yeah, I want it. Want your dick in me.”

“Yeah, that’s, _nnh,_ m-my boy, _agh,_ my boy, so good. So good for me. So good, can feel you pulling me in, your ass pulling me in. You’re so hungry for it, all of it, gonna get in deep, so deep. Say it, boy, wanna hear you _say it._ ”

“Fuck me.”

“Can’t, _ngh,_ can’t hear it, can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me!”

With each exchange between them, Tweek only worked into him faster, and harder, grinding up against him, feverish. “S-so hot, _nnn,_ can’t stand it, _god,_ I can’t stand it! S-say, say it again, say it!”

“Fuck me!” Craig cried. “ _Fuck me, Daddy!”_

Shit.

Tweek slowed down. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down, though his hips still worked in circles up against Craig’s ass. “What the fuck did you call me?” he growled out, low and menacing.

“It, it just— shit.” Craig bit his lip, and rolled his pelvis backwards anyway. He did not want them to lose their momentum. His hard dick ground up against the thin mattress of his bed, and he didn’t want to stop.

“I asked you a question, boy!”

“ _Daddy,_ ” Craig gasped out quickly, encouraged by Tweek’s use of “boy” again.

“Jesus,” Tweek hissed out, and then whispered, “call me that again.”

“Daddy,” Craig answered him. “Harder, Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy.”

“Is this a fucking _joke_ to you?” Tweek suddenly snarled. He had Craig by the nape of his neck, first digging in with his fingertips, and then when Craig frantically shook his head, he bent low and bit him, sucked hard at the skin.

“ _Shit!_ ” Craig shouted. He jerked his head to the side, and Tweek let go of him. “What the _fuck!_ ”

“I don’t like being _made fun of,_ ” Tweek snapped at him, but he was still moving. “Gonna mock me again, boy?”

“No.” Craig rubbed the back of his neck. “No, sir.”

Tweek kissed him there, licked him there, and moved in him again, and again. His grip was tight on Craig’s hips, and then his shoulders, and then he harshly dragged his fingers down only to replace them with his teeth. Craig whined and gripped the bed hard.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” Tweek panted. “Fuck, _fuck!”_  He slowed after a time Craig was certain would leave his upper back with bruises, and fumbled around beneath Craig’s body where it was pressed into the bed. “G-gimme it, your dick. Gimme your dick, baby, wanna make you come.” He seized it and jerked in quick sharp strokes that mirrored the way he bucked up against Craig’s ass, and the friction was hot and rough and it should have been too much at once, it burned and Craig was tender, but it wasn’t. Between his nerves inside being lit on fire and split apart, and Tweek’s hand on him, and the nasty things he mumbled into Craig’s ear, and the bite-marks still cooling on his skin, he lost it. The release all but poured out of him, and he bit down on the cot and shouted into it, heard his name being panted in response—an encouragement—and then he was empty, Tweek had left him.

He gripped the sides of the bed hard and trembled, felt himself slowly come back. There was a smear of wet under his front and he’d drooled into the fabric where he bit down, too. Craig shifted himself, hoisted himself up on the bed until he was curled around those places. Tweek squeezed his shoulder.

“I, ah, I should get going.”

Craig rolled over and finally got a good eyeful of his naked body. Part of him thought it would be the polite thing to beg him to stay, but then he realized, he didn’t really want him to.

_Who are you?_

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Love you.” Tweek kissed his forehead.

 

* * *

 

After Tweek had departed and he changed his sheets, Craig found himself lying wide awake. He stared up at the ceiling. This was the time to analyze what the fuck had just happened, he supposed, but he was caught up in a strange combination of post-orgasmic-zen and his own overwhelming apathy.

Instead, he reached over for his pants and pulled out his phone. There was a notification on his screen. Two, in fact. When he pulled the messages up, another dick filled his screen.

It was not Tweek’s.

 _Stout_ would have been the first word to come to mind. It jutted out from a crop of wiry black hair, subtly curved to the left where it flopped back against its owner’s stomach. The guy had a complete hard-on and the length of him was flushed with arousal; the dark, violet-hued head lay against the place just above his navel. Craig caught a glimpse of the trail of dark hair just underneath, but it was all else he could see.

The timestamp of the second message was marked nearly a full minute afterwards.

— _oh FUCK SORRY DUDE that was meant for someone else_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the truth will come to light soon. They can't drag this shit out forever. ;)
> 
> Follow and/or yell at me on [Tumblr!](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


	18. Turkey Neck and Turkey Gizzards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chats in this one, so it might look longer than it is.
> 
> Thanks as always for your comments and kudos!

Craig skipped class the following day. He was sore, his mind was a sluggish, useless lump, and he was exhausted. He also had not one, but two dick pics on his phone from last night. This was not the first time Tweek had sent him unsolicited photos of his cock—and by god, it certainly wouldn’t be the last—but for the first time in Craig’s life, he had another man’s dick on his hands, a man who was certainly _not_ Tweek, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to process this.

He did, however, jerk off to it.

Was it cheating to jack it to someone else’s dick, someone who wasn’t your boyfriend? If it was pornography and some anonymous actor instead of a fellow university student, would it have mattered as much? Craig was certain he was skirting some kind of moral grey area somewhere. Especially since it was the dick of the guy he’d drunkenly sucked face with a few weeks ago.

After cleaning up, he finally sent a text back.

No, not a text. A Facebook message.

 

**MON 11:13AM**

_didn’t think broflovski was that close to tucker_

_its not  
_ _did u delete it_

_I will if you say who it was meant for._

_my BF!_  
_I just have ur name in as Craig no last name  
I was in a hurry_

_I should ask my roommate if he ever got it._

_your an asshole  
_ _plz just delete it! We can forget this happened_

 _ok  
_ **Seen Mon 11:31am**

 

Craig moved it into a separate folder. Thus far, the only item in that folder had been the selfie Tweek inadvertently sent his alter-ego a while back, of his spread asshole and those ugly stockings. He stared at their previews on his phone for a moment, and found his mind wandering to the idea of how Stan’s dick going into Tweek’s ass would look. Given that both were laid bare before him, it was not at all anything that needed to be left to the imagination.

He pushed the phone off to the side and took himself in hand, again, only this time he poked his fingers inside himself as well. The soreness just lent more credibility to his feelings. Kyle was gone away, in class. Why wouldn’t he seize the opportunity to indulge himself?

It was only when he was in the shower around half an hour later that Craig realized he was probably supposed to feel guilty.

He didn’t.

 

* * *

 

 **boofit420  
** hey

 **tweeker-nation  
** hi!  
sup

 **boofit420  
** nm u?

 **tweeker-nation  
** ive had THE MOST FUCKED UPWEEK  
now im just chillin  
lookin at dirty thingsssss ;)

 **boofit420  
** oh?  
what about your dirty thing

 **tweeker-nation  
** lol  
maybe later I am busy!  
omg check this out tho!!!!  
god its so hot!!!!

 

Craig, apart from the shower, still hadn't left his dorm. Kyle had yet to turn up. He and Tweek exchanged messages a couple times, but it was inconsequential. Tweek, telling him about some dumb art piece someone in his cohort made and how painfully derivative it was. Tweek, asking him if he was hungry. (He wasn’t.) Tweek, sending him stupid emojis, and Craig doing so in kind. A heart. A peach. An eggplant. A flexing arm. A grinning Devil.

At the point where he saw Tweek had updated his blog again, it was around 11pm and he felt sluggish and gross from intermittent naps and poking around on his phone. They called them ‘mental health days’, but Craig wasn't sure how they applied to fixing one’s mental health at all. He wasn't any more primed and ready to emerge for class tomorrow than he had been that morning. In fact, the prospect made him feel even _worse,_ so he decided on a distraction.

The decor had changed. It was subtle, as all of it became background noise in the first place when Tweek took selfies, but Craig caught a glimpse of a patterned sofa behind Tweek’s back and some kind of shitty flower print framed on the wall behind him. Tweek leveled his burning gaze at the camera, and slowly breathed out his poison. It was like watching a silent film.

Craig clicked the link he had sent him. A young man filled his screen: skinny, pale, naked. Naked, save for one thing: rope.

Not just rope that bound him at the wrists, or the arms, but all over his upper body. It wove around him in diamond patterns and carefully-placed knots. Craig couldn’t help it; he was intrigued.

 

 **boofit420  
** whos that

 **tweeker-nation  
** idk some model  
but LOOK isnt it beautiful?? its ART this is ART  
im gonna learn howt o do this im so excited  
my friends gonna help me

 

Immediately, Craig’s stomach twisted. He didn’t know much about bondage—only the times where Tweek convinced him to let him tie his wrists, and Craig trusted him enough to let him—but it always seemed like a careful, intimate practice. The first time they tried it was their senior year in high school, when Tweek wanted to blow him with his hands behind his back. It was hot, the way Tweek wouldn't take his eyes off him, his tongue lapping over his stomach and further down, down below. The impish little grin that never seemed to leave his face. The look in his eyes afterward, when he was licking Craig's cum off his body, that mixture of burning and softness.

Even if it was just for a project, he couldn't imagine Tweek putting his hands on someone else like that. Especially not their entire body. Craig's chest tightened, and a sour feeling settled in his stomach.

 

 **boofit420  
** lol ok  
yeah that is kinda hot

 **tweeker-nation  
** its called kinbaku!  
or shibari  
but tbh shibari is more the overall concept and kinbaku is liek the sexy part of it??? I guess  
the emotional exhcnage  
so what I wanna do is kinbaku but im practicing shibari as a whole  
god its SO COOL  
ppl usualy do it with girls but obvs im doin it to a guy ;)  
its gonna look SOOOO hot with that meat there  
gettn horny thinkin about it fuck

 **boofit420  
** i've never done that  
been handcuffed

 **tweeker-nation  
** theres just so much I want to do  
with the guy I wanan do it to  
I cant wait god im so exicted!!!  
my friend said i can post pics haha hes more of a lslut than i am!

(Is that even possible, came the vindictive little thought.)

 **tweeker-nation  
** omg omfg omg omg!!  
i found a fuckin picture not only with a dick but its UNCUT  
oh gd im so hard now lmao

 

Craig swallowed thickly as he took in the new image. It _was_ pretty hot. But more importantly: _he_ was uncut. He knew Kenny wasn’t, because Kenny would openly supply information about his dick whether you wanted to hear it or not. He had no idea about the state of the guys in Tweeks stupid artsy social circle, with whom Tweek seemed to have a bitchy, competitive relationship. Craig didn't exactly extend that kind of curiosity in their direction, either.

What the Hell was going on?

 

 **boofit420  
** that's pretty cool, looks painful  
you like uncut dicks?

 **tweeker-nation  
** GOD YEAH  
well jsut one lol

(Oh, fuck.)

 **boofit420  
** lol your bf? or some other dude

 **tweeker-nation  
** no its the same guy  
im just crazy about him  
thats all  
im fucking crazy  
adn he forgives me and deserves so much better but I cant let him go  
it mixesme up sometimes but I have faith

 **boofit420  
** cool

 **tweeker-nation  
** the guy in this pic is ok but jfc his dickk  
i mean my babys dick  
fuuuuuuck  
im droolin thinkin about it now lol and I dont even bottom  
love suckin it though

(This was a joke, right? No. Tweek must have figured out who he was really talking to, and this was his way of fucking with him. Craig’s mouth had gone entirely dry.)

 **boofit420  
** got a pic?

 **tweeker-nation  
** no its just for me to look at ;) sorrrryyyyy lmao  
I wouldnt do that to him anyway  
no offense but ur a stranger  
I dont know u and i odnt want him in this world  
its dirty its a mess it makesme ugly and I dont want him in it

(Craig groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Why’d he have to go and say that?)

 **boofit420  
** yea that makes sense  
i’ve never been with an uncut guy whats it like

 **tweeker-nation  
** oh man  
well like theres foreskin right?? I mean youve seen pics

 **boofit420  
** yep

 **tweeker-nation  
** ppl say it feels great being dicked down by one but like I said i dont bottom!  
maybe one day idk, he wants to fuck me, he said so  
i just dont feel ready for it im scared I’ll shit all over him or something lol  
yeah im weird

 **boofit420  
** everyone says that but you probably won’t

 **tweeker-nation  
** it feels like I will  
I like a finger but anything more  
just too much and im like badly lactose intolerance so I got issues

 **boofit420  
** if it hurts you’re probably going too fast  
just slow down

 **tweeker-nation  
** it doesnt hurt, it kinda does but like I said  
it just feels like im about to take a shit or somethign  
I tried it on myself  
anyway back to the dick

 **boofit420  
** lol

 

Craig cast a glance at the door, then ultimately decided to get into his favourite position when he needed to jerk off but feared Kyle’s return at any moment: upright, cross-legged, the blanket pulled over his lap. He tucked the lubricant under there with him and reached in, undid himself, pried his cock out. Even with the awkward bent this particular topic had, all he could think about was that fucking picture again—Tweek’s perfect, lovely, spread asshole—taken for a complete stranger and sent to him by mistake. And the way it felt when he’d finger him, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to slide in there, so tight and warm and squeezing and—

Forbidden.

He slicked up his hand and began to stroke; his teeth scraped over his bottom lip with a quiet huff of breath when Tweek began to describe his dick— _Craig’s_ dick—in intimate detail:

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** so when it’s soft there’s just like this extra skin on top that’s fun to play with  
it’s so fucking cute I love it!!  
like a soft little tube almost lmao I guess that sounds weird but it’s really cute and feels nice to touch  
and when it gets hard the tip pokes out a little and it’s pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen  
its very fragile and tender its not like how a normal dick head looks  
it just makes me want to protect it and he moans SO sweet when I gently lick at it  
one of my fave things in the world is jsut lying next to him gently playing with the skin  
I know exaclty how to get him hard and i love movign down his body and watching the tip come out then just lick him there and stroke his cock until hes moaning for me  
god hes so beautiful

 **boofit420  
** wow

 **tweeker-nation  
** idk the big deal about uncut everyones like EWW THEYRE GROSS but it’s so delicious  
when we first got together he didnt show it to me until we were dating for like 6 months :(  
I thought he had a VD from how he was like NO  
but nooooo it was just uncut hes so cute!!  
he was a virgin too mabe thats why  
oh and when you stroke a uncut guy the foreskin kind of moves up and down his dick and you can watch it slide back and forth over the tip  
that sounds weird the way I worded it but it looks really cool and i guess feeling it rub over the head feels really good for the guy  
you can jack it like that when youre blowing it too and just run your tongue over the head and underneath the skin  
it was grat taking his v-card  
hes still so tight I love him love his ass love his dick  
god I sound like a teenage girl dont i!! Lol

 **boofit420  
** yeah kinda

 

(Said Craig, panting, dick in hand.)

He was caught between squirming in embarrassment and greedily lifting his hips to pull himself through his own fist. This should have been awkward to read, and it certainly _was,_ a weird self-conscious arousal heating his face; yet Craig couldn’t peel his eyes away from the glowing screen of his phone, from the words that spilled across it. Was this normal? Of course it wasn’t fucking normal. Nothing with Tweek had ever been _normal._ And it was bizarre to read such a private situation from the perspective of a third party.

He was just as bad as Kenny. The little _shit._

Craig flicked his thumb over that place—the place Tweek had so eagerly described as one of his favourite places to _lick_ —and bit his tongue.

 

 **tweeker-nation  
** lol

 **boofit420  
** he’s a lucky guy

 **tweeker-nation  
** no im the lucky guy  
im trash idont know why he took me back  
but anyway  
I cant wait to tie him up like this its gonna be so much fun

 **boofit420  
** im curious now, what do you plan to do

 **tweeker-nation  
** this will sound SOOO gay  
but i want to be tender and gentle with him  
we fuck a LOT and im awlays just really selfish and want to keep going over and over becuz of them eth adn hes into it but im rough with him a lot  
i want to be gentle like we were in the beginnig  
i want everything like it was in the begnnning

 **boofit420  
** while he’s in the rope thing?

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea  
he gets so nervous when we get kinky and I want him to feel really good  
I probably wont even tie his wrists i just want to put that rope design on him  
sometimes ppl will walk around with it under their clothes its SO HOT  
so its not even always about bondage its just art

 

Craig fumbled with the phone one-handed, tapped back into his browser where the image had been pulled up. He stared at it, briefly licked his lips, and worked at himself in slow slick strokes as he tried to imagine how it might feel. They used rope before, among other things; it wasn’t hard and scratchy like Craig had expected. It was smooth, soft, strangely comfortable. _Oh, I practice tying knots sometimes,_ Tweek had explained once, with an oddly bashful smile as he looped the thing around Craig’s wrists.

_I tie my ankles together._

Craig’s head felt fuzzy. His fingers tapped out carefully his mounting curiosity. _Just say it,_ he reminded himself. _It’s not even you. Just say it._

He did. He felt like a kid peeking into his parents’ closet before Christmas, but he did.

 

 **boofit420  
** wow that’s hot  
what kind of things will you do  
does it get you hot to talk about this

 **tweeker-nation  
** yea it does lol  
im pretty hard  
I might not fuck him with my dick actually unless he begs me for it  
I just want ot please him with my hands and mouth  
kiss him and tell him how much I love him and how beautiful he is  
lol this is embarrassing

 **boofit420  
** its hot

 **tweeker-nation  
** really? its not weird??

 **boofit420  
** nah  
keep going

 **tweeker-nation  
** i’ll touch him all over  
and kiss every diamond i make with the rope  
maybe lick too  
i think i will do the kind that goes up between his cheeks so i can let the rope tease his hole

 **boofit420  
** oh cool

 **tweeker-nation  
** yeah i’ve been lookig at all different kinds for the past few days lol  
i wont torture his cock and balls though it’ll just go around them like a frame  
and then i can watch him get hard  
cant wait to tease him until he’s squirming like brushing my fingers over his balls or very lightly on his length  
then when i’m done with the rope i’ll kiss and bite every space  
and i’ll make him spread his legs so i can suck his cock  
but i’ll go very slow and really take my time, he loves when i blow him so i will drag it out make him feel really good

 

Craig couldn’t help the strangled little groan that fell from him. Instinctively, he shot a fearful look at the door, as if the noise would be the very moment Kyle would walk right in—nothing. It was nothing. He pushed his pants down and off and spread his thighs.

_This is wrong._

**_This is wrong._ **

He didn’t even know who was more wrong at this point. They’d reached an impasse, though Tweek didn’t even realize he was on the other side of it—not this one. Craig didn’t even care. It felt too good, and he didn’t even care.

(An addict for an addict.)

 

 **boofit420  
** shit  
drag it out how

 **tweeker-nation  
** focus on very specfic places like rub my tongue over where his dick head peeks out  
and then slowly roll it bak and lick all over there  
i’ll probably move my mouth all the way down and suck his balls too  
adn lick his taint ;)

 **boofit420  
** u into rimming too right?

 **tweeker-nation  
** fuck yeah  
lol its funny i used to think it was so fucking gross befor we got together  
like omg why woudl you lick someones BUTT but i was a stupid kid and the ppl i was fucking aorund with were kinda gross anyway  
i always wore a condom  
but he was the 1st and ONLY guy i bareback  
and idk i jsut felt like licking his cute butt one day he LOVED it  
and hes great at it too so he deserves it even more for that ;)  
so im gonna do it when hes in the rope too

 **boofit420  
** awesome  
just rim?

 **tweeker-nation  
** i’ll put my fingers in him too  
i might be a lil mean and make him ask fo r that part ;)  
but its just to make him feel good  
i wanna edge him too  
i’ll keep teasing his dick and ass and drive him crazy  
i want him to cum harder than he ever has in his life  
and then he will always think of me and no on eelse  
no one can pleasure him like i can

 

For a moment, Craig was frozen in shock. Frozen, and primed, and ready, as he gaped open-mouthed at everything before him. Everything Tweek wanted for him. This wasn’t some hurried disaster that left him desperate to prove something to himself, or a prolonged heady fuck-binge at the tailend of a bender. This was real. This was him.

This was them.

“Oh, fuck you,” Craig gasped out, broken by his sharp, jagged breaths. His shoulders tensed, and then all of it ran out of him, all the way down his spine and right through his dick, just like that.

Tweek was always good at that.

 

 **boofit420  
** well i just came  
lol

 **tweeker-nation  
** omg  
lol  
rly????

 **boofit420  
** yeah  
that was hot

 **tweeker-nation  
** well cool!!! hehe I hope he thinks so too when I do it to him

 **boofit420  
** yea well goodnight i gtg  
good luck if you do it

 **tweeker-nation  
** oh im gonna!!!!  
bye

 

Craig collapsed onto his back, an arm flung over his forehead, and stared up at the ceiling. The afterglow tugged him into a guilty doze and he stirred, momentarily, when Kyle came in and he didn’t even know what time it was. He wasn’t even conscious enough to care. It was dark out and he was going to have bizarre, twisted dreams that he didn’t want to lose, and he fell back into a tangled, obscene sleep.

 

* * *

 

**TUE 4:29AM**

_baby u awake????_  
_ok I guess not tats ok_  
_look Ive been thinking a lot. Im really weirded out by the other night, am i too rough with you?? i know i lost my shit. wtf is WRONG with me???? I promised Id be good to you, not a mosnter. I failed u again. Im so sorry Craig. I wanted u so bad and im jus t so fuckd up over the stanley thing its not even your fault and im not mad at you!! but Im really scared. I don’t want to lose you, hes so much better than me and im just a crazy mess, I dont even know what you see in me. but I still cant lose you or live iwthout you. I want to be good to you._  
_I want us to spend time together just the 2 of us. to focus on eacho ther. I’ll pay for everything. please??? I just want you and me, no stupid kyle or kenny or anyone . I get so fucking stupid over you Craig. you kill me but its ok because I’d die for you. I want it all to be like how its supposed to be. the way it used to be. did we grow up too fast? I dont understand what happened. We used to be so happy._  
_I want to take my time with you, really touch you. I want to make youfeel good. I want to be slow and tender with you like we used to be. I want to make love not just fuck beause youre so much more than that to me youre so much more, I love you. I love you so fucking much and im so sorry all the times i hurt you both with my words and my actions and all the stupid shit i did. can we just be us?? just us no one else in this stupid shitty world_  
_ill pay for everything. all i need from you is ur time. this weekend i hope. please?  
i love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that involved description of Craig's penis. This chapter was kind of all over the place. But now there's more garbage on the horizon...


	19. Passengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your comments and support! I'm leaving for a con the day after tomorrow, but wanted to get this up beforehand.

_“…don't know what you think you saw, but…”_

_“Oh come on! You were all over each other!”_

_“We've always been that way! It doesn't_ mean _anything!”_

_“Bullshit. I saw you. It was right after you ate those stupid mushrooms.”_

_“There was plenty to go around! Kevin asked if you wanted to try them, and you were sitting right there…”_

_“I wasn’t ready. I was_ _hoping_ _you would wait so we could try them together.”_

_“This wasn’t even my first time!”_

_“Are you fucking serious?”_

_“I told you that, if you’d just—_ ”

_“Whatever. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I clearly can’t keep up with you, your little adventures, your experiences, so why are you even with me?”_

_“What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_“Just go be with him. You have a lot more in common, anyway.”_

_“What? With who?”_

_“Kenny! With Kenny! Who do you think I meant?”_

_“Craig, look at me. Look deep into my eyes.” It was the moment Kenny finally decided to stride past that place, the empty room they occupied together, and in their anger they’d forgotten to latch the door. If they didn't see him, certainly, they must have heard him. But neither of them even looked. Tweek had his hands on Craig's cheeks, and he was gazing intently into his face. Kenny rolled his eyes. He could hear them even as he continued down that narrow hallway toward the bathroom. “You’re_ **_not_ ** _a passenger.”_

_“What the fuck—”_

_“You’re not a passenger,” Tweek said again, as emphatic as the first time. “I don’t want him, or anyone else. I'm in love with_ you.”

 

* * *

 

Kenny didn’t even realize he’d spaced out until he was turning onto the little road that would lead him to Bebe’s house, his soul on autopilot. It was a good thing some part of him remembered where to go, at least. The closer they drew toward the end of the year, the tighter the deadlines; the more temptations he had to push away. This diversion, right here: could it have been termed a temptation, too? He had a future here. Sure, it was hinging on grey at the moment, but the shadows would pass. They always did.

Didn’t they?

The front door swung inward, and his arms were at the ready, but it wasn’t Bebe, he quickly realized in the nick of time. Shit. Where _was_ she?

“Oh, hello, Stuart!” Bebe’s mother rang out cheerfully. Her makeup was impeccable. Bebe did it for her every afternoon, she told Kenny once. It helped keep her reality just a little more stitched together.

“Uh…” Kenny should have been used to this. It hadn’t happened in a while, because he normally avoided her entirely; Bebe would let him in and they’d go downstairs. He couldn’t quite say it was for a good reason. He just felt awkward, really fucking awkward around the whole situation, and it made him into a piece of shit.

“That’s not Stuart, Mom.” Bebe’s voice automatically made the tension steep from his shoulders. In an impressively routine role reversal, she spoke to her mother like one would a child; Bebe’s hands rested on her mother’s shoulders, and she gently guided her away from the doorway to let Kenny through. “Remember Kenny? That’s Kenny. —Hi,” she managed to whisper to him somewhere in there.

“Oh, yes, so Carol’s eating right? You have to watch out for the breast milk, the fat might leak through. Y-you have to drink the skim, hear me?”

Kenny was grateful when, instead of indulging her mother further, Bebe simply waved at him to head down into her suite. He took that out like it was some kind of lifeline. When he got downstairs, he kicked off his boots and sat down on her bed. Briefly, he contemplated stripping entirely, but decided against it. There was a high chance she wouldn’t be in the mood tonight. And that was okay. It had to be.

Bebe came down around ten minutes later and Kenny immediately looked up from his phone. He had the brilliant idea of showing her the pictures Tweek took of him from his rope practice, but one look at her face and he set the device aside instead. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said as she flopped down beside him and immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she whispered, as if it would have registered even if her mother _could_ hear her.

“Sorry,” Kenny said. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“No, that’s fine, nothing would have worked anyway.” Bebe pulled off her t-shirt. She was wearing the bright red, silken bra underneath that always made her tits look like a fucking dream. Maybe she wouldn’t reject him after all. “She attacked me today,” she whispered, again.

“What the Hell?”

“She thought I was some crack whore who broke in. I’d already hidden the knives, so she just had a wooden spoon, but…” Bebe buried her face in her hands. It didn’t take a genius to know she was in tears. Kenny rubbed one of her shoulders.

“Shit’s getting real,” he said. “Time to consider other options.”

“Like what?” Bebe reached for the Kleenex on her nightstand and wiped under her eyes. “I can’t afford a nurse. I can barely make the payments on this place as it is, even with her social security.”

“I’m not talking about a nurse.”

“I’m not doing that, either,” Bebe replied, a little more tersely. “I already told you that.”

“You’re not qualified to be doing this,” said Kenny. “It’s just gonna get worse from here.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sakes,” Bebe snapped, and then she was on her feet. She stalked over to her vanity and pulled off her jeans. Kenny tried not to stare at her ass in those panties, but he was only human, after all. “She’s my _mother!_ ”

“It’ll just make you hate her,” said Kenny. “You wanna watch her go with hate in your heart?”

“Fuck you,” Bebe shot back. “You fucking asshole. What if it was your mother? Would you be able to do that to her? Just stick her in a home somewhere and forget all about her?”

“Honestly?” Kenny replied. “Yes.”

“I don’t have hate in my heart.” Her eyes were filling with tears again. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

“That’s not what I was saying.” Kenny went over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You’re twisting my words, baby.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Bebe told him. “Can you just drop it and fuck me?”

“I will if you sit on my face first,” replied Kenny.

She did, but at first, she didn’t remove her panties. He could catch her scent through them, and taste, when he ran his tongue over the silk. Then he grabbed and yanked them down, went to fucking town on her pussy first and then her ass. Bebe reached down to twist her fingers in his hair, and at first Kenny thought she was going to pull him away, but instead she ground his face up harder against her. It was almost enough to make him nut right then and there.

“Hey,” he pondered quietly some time later, after she’d ridden them both to completion, “remember that party where I met you?”

Bebe dragged her nails over the nape of his neck. “When we went tripping with your brother?” Her voice was thick and raspy, still dulled from her orgasm.

“Yep,” replied Kenny. “I was thinking about it earlier.”

“Okay.”

Kenny paused then, and frowned. “You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Why would I?” Bebe asked. Her voice was tight. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because it won’t get out of my head.”

“Jesus, Kenny.” She rolled over and away from him. “What do you want me to say? Are you punishing me? Is that it?”

“What? No!” He pressed up against her from behind. “If anyone needs to be punished, it’s me.”

“You know things were different back then.”

Kenny felt a sudden, thick wave of revulsion. “No they weren't.”

“If you’re going to blame someone,” Bebe said quietly, “you should blame yourself.” The words were harsh, but her voice was soft. Almost loving. How the Hell did she manage to do that? For a moment, Kenny thought she was going to tell him to leave, but she didn’t.

“You say that like I don’t,” he muttered under his breath. Bebe was silent. “Look,” he stated, “I can’t force your feelings. I’m just asking you to understand. To remember, and understand.”

“So I guess you didn’t mean that bullshit about ‘making the right decision’ after all.”

“I did mean it. Gonna ask me to make it?”  
  
Bebe was silent for a few minutes. That was fine. Kenny had all the time in the world. All the fucking time in the world. “No,” she finally whispered.

With a long sigh, Kenny rolled over onto his back. “I need a smoke,” he said. “Just a regular one.”  
  
“Okay.”

Kenny got up, pulled on only his jeans, and strolled upstairs. The house was dark, an atmosphere someone normal might have called, _eerie._ But Kenny was hardly normal and the sidewalk didn’t even feel cold against his feet when he went outside. It was funny how Bebe’s mother’s mind was going, going so bad she couldn’t remember shit and mixed up the people in her life, but Bebe still didn’t want him to smoke cigarettes in the house. The meth must have been too much for her, and anything else would be a reminder.

Once he came into their future together, though, it wouldn’t be so bad. They wouldn’t have to hole up in the basement like a couple of earnest teenagers, even though in many ways, that was what they still were.

Kenny pulled out his phone and thumbed through the photo gallery. Those stupid, fucking pictures. He was wearing a rope harness in the first few, some kind of project or something-or-other of Tweek’s. Tweek wouldn’t give him the full story. _Practice, it’s just practice,_ he said. He didn’t really pretend to understand Tweek’s whims anymore. He could always trust in Tweek to fuck something up or get some kind of wild hare up his ass. That was all he needed anymore.

On and on he rolled through the photographs, until he settled on that night. A year and a half ago, a midsummer’s evening. The time between their penultimate and final years of high school. They went out there in the field behind Kenny's brother’s trailer, psilocybin provided courtesy of Kevin himself, _The Kev._ Craig pussied out and so did one of the girls, if memory served. And Tweek wouldn't shut up about the way the setting sun looked against the corn, between kisses to his boyfriend’s face and tight, clinging hugs around Kenny’s body that might have pressed too close, might have lasted too long. And why stop a good thing, if it feels good and hurts no one?

Tweek was so fucking obsessed with his little projects. Kenny could remember that well. The inspiration disease was in its prime back then. Every week it seemed he dragged something new out of the garbage, and then he threw something back. Love usually made people do crazy things.

_“He’s gone.”_

_“Hey, chin up.”_

_“For what? Why lift my head at all? I meant every word and it didn't count.”_

_“There’s still your art. You'd lift your head for art, wouldn't ya?”_

_“An artist is nothing without his muse.”_

_“Then we’ll find you a nice stand-in. Just till he pulls his head out of his ass.”_

The door swung open. Kenny pulled the cigarette from his mouth and quipped, “miss me that bad, huh?”

“Why’re you smoking outside of my house, Stuart?”

Kenny whipped his head around. There she was, in a fluffy pink robe and her hair in curlers. It was a scene right out of some weird comic and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Babe?” he called. Mrs. Stevens visibly flinched.

“Please keep your voice down,” she pleaded. “My daughter’s got school in the morning.”

Something twisted all funny in Kenny's stomach and he felt light-headed, like his organs were going to drop out of his ass and he would fall right then and there. Of all the things to scare the shit out of him, why’d it have to be something like this? Why couldn't he be strong enough, for her?

For him?

_“Bebe!”_ Kenny shouted for her.

“I'll call the police.” Mrs. Stevens had that telltale waver in her voice: the same one Bebe got when she was fighting back tears. “You asshole. Why can’t you take ‘no’ for an answer?”

Bebe was right behind her. “Mom, Mom.” She wrapped her up in a hug. “That's not Stuart, remember? Come on, you need to get back in bed.” Without even once looking in Kenny's direction, she ushered her back inside, and promptly shut the door.

Kenny stared at it long after it closed. He wasn’t sure what the implication was supposed to be. Perhaps there wasn't one at all. But it was a good thing—a really good thing—he kept his keys hooked on that dulled carabiner in his jeans, because he could get right back into his car and just drive straight on home if he wanted to.

Which he did. And he didn't look behind him. The only trouble was, he didn’t actually have a home to run back to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna be the gratuitous, embarrassingly sappy shibari porn you were waiting for, so batten down I guess...


	20. Hand In Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek and Craig get a little time for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after like 8 months, it's back! I agonized over this for far too long. But hey, the chapter's far too long too, and it's mostly smut and ~feelings~ so I hope the wait was worth it. This chapter was difficult to write, not because of any personal effects but because I was having difficulty conveying what I wanted to convey, and kept sabotaging myself.
> 
> Many thanks to [relvey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/relvey) for reading/validating! I know where I'm going with the story after this so updates should come faster again.

_“I’ve never been with a virgin before.”_

_“I’m not a wilting violet or something. I still thought about it.”_

_“I-I know. I know.” Tweek laced his fingers together in his lap, dragged in a deep inhale like he was taking a hit—though the pipe had long since burnt out between them—and glanced at his curtains like he could see right through them. “I just don’t wanna fuck this up somehow. Oh, Jesus. I’m gonna fuck this up, aren’t I?”_

_Never in Craig’s life would he have imagined the more experienced party to be the one freaking out._ Only us, _was the little thought that slipped through._ Only us. _He pictured the line of condoms in his backpack and the half-used bottle of lube he knew was in his boyfriend’s night stand drawer, right next to the baggie of greens and his stupid little flip lighter with the tacky peace sign._

 

* * *

 

The trail was thinning out. It already segued into dirt long ago, but after the last marker (which had been crudely made, or at least designed to look that way, pale scratches etched into red-brown wood that looked like it had been plucked from a fence) the little path under their feet wore itself down until their shoes ran along the grass.

Tweek stopped dead in his tracks. He was winded, like they ran there. “Gotta catch my breath anyway,” he rasped out. “Are you hot?”

Craig, who only wore a light jacket, looked down at himself. “No.”

“I'm hot,” Tweek panted. He reached down and before Craig could even protest, pulled off his shirt.

“What are you doing?” A pang hit him somewhere between his ribs and his stomach. “You'll get cut.”

“Nuh-uh,” Tweek protested. He looked around, gestured toward something behind and to the left of him. “Look!” Craig tried to follow his finger. “We should get in.”

It was a body of water. A stream, or perhaps a spring. Craig immediately thought of snakes, and he thought about the one Tweek had right in his dorm room. It wasn’t a thought he was willing to dredge up, so he kicked it aside and toed some of the stray dirt in his mind over it. “Okay,” he replied. Tweek visibly lit up.

“ _Yeah,_ ” he said brightly. His pants came off next, and then—shit. He stripped entirely down and left their clothes to hang on the riverbank. Craig peeled off his own shirt and watched him dip his toes against the rocks before stepping down. A heady puff of air slipped between his teeth.

“Cold?”

Tweek shook his head. He stared at Craig as he slipped in to follow him. “Boxers?” he laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not getting my dick wet here.”

“It’ll get wet anyway.” There was something in Tweek’s tone that suggested it was supposed to be some sort of double entrende, but Craig didn’t have time to reflect on it because Tweek came up to him, and kissed him. He ran his hands down Craig’s back. Craig casually traced his fingers over the tattoo on Tweek’s shoulder and thought about the snake again. This time, she’d be around his shoulders, like how they first met, but they would stay in the water, both of them.

“Let’s go deeper,” Tweek urged against his mouth. At first, Craig thought he meant the kiss, so he swabbed his tongue against Tweek’s lips. Tweek licked back at him, and a grin spread across his face. “ _Mm!_ You’re so cute. I meant the water, sweet boy.”

Craig drew back so he could better assess this water situation. It grew deeper in the middle, and further down the way, there were bigger rocks, and a bigger rush, and the water crashed against them so fiercely it might as well have been foam. “I don’t know…”

“Not there!” Tweek laughed. He reached for one of Craig's hands and squeezed it. “Here.” He waded in further until the water touched his ribs. A light shiver ran through him but he made no move to wrap his arms around himself. Was it Craig's imagination, or did his bones seem a little more shadowy, a little more pronounced? Nothing, he realized, could have been chalked up to his imagination anymore. The water licked at his navel and he drew himself up.

“S'cold.”

“C'mere, then.”

Just as Tweek’s arms went around him, the rapid thump thump thump of feet across the soft bed of needles and earth trailed along the riverbank, along with the jingle of tags, and they were no longer alone. A splash flared up beside them and something round, cold and wet pressed against Craig's side. He instinctively jerked away.

“Shit!” cried Tweek. His voice cracked. The dog who had just leapt into the stream gave a snuffle and barked before throwing itself toward the two of them.

“Sorry!” came the voice from the riverbank, accompanied by a nervous chuckle. “Didn’t see you there, Miss!” A slightly overweight, beer-gutted man with the tinge of a backwater accent called out to them. He almost, no, he certainly _did_ sound scandalized.

“You're fine, man!” Tweek patted the intruder on the head. “I love dogs!” He seemed not to care at all that he was two steps away from flashing his dick. Even as it were, the water dipped down enough to show off his golden happy trail, and the cluster of trees and surreal night sky at his hip. Craig didn’t bother trying to save face. He certainly caught the palette of emotion that flapped across the guy’s face as his brain caught up with his ocular nerves and the array of light showed him reality and this was _not_ a simple young couple and this was _not_ a lady. He’d stumbled across a couple of fags.

Somehow, this open-faced revelation did not faze Craig in the slightest. Even as the residual self-consciousness stirred up somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, he casually brushed his fingers over the elastic waistband of the boxers plastered against his hips, and lifted his hand in a wave. In his periphery Tweek had his hands cupped on either side of the dog's face and was cooing at him.

“Duke! C’mere boy!” The man made a clicking sound with his tongue. The mongrel’s head turned toward his owner, but then Tweek goaded this “Duke” on, shifting fluidly through the water, and he splashed after Tweek with a small explosion of eager barks, tail slapping the water over and over like some kind of rudder.

“Good boy!” Tweek was breathless. He feigned like he was going to lunge at the dog and scrambled away as his new friend gave pursuit. He must tripped over some kind of rock because he went down all of a sudden, with a yelp, followed by a throaty groan.

“What happened?” Craig carefully moved over to him while the dog tried to lick his face.

“I banged my knee!”

“Duke, c’mere! Let’s go, c’mon!” The man’s voice grew a little more insistent, followed by a series of whistles.

“Bye!” called Tweek. Craig extended a hand to him.

“You alright, babe?”

“Yeah.” Instead of taking his hand, though, Tweek gripped his arm tight. Craig's other arm slipped around his waist and he hauled him toward the riverbank. “That guy was a total homophobe! I bet he wanted to shoot us!” But he was laughing as he said it.

“I think you're being a little dramatic.” Craig inspected both his knees. One of them looked scraped, an angry red. Tweek reached down and rubbed at it.

“I'm hungry.”

Warmth flooded Craig. The loving, relieved kind. He would gladly feed Tweek right from his own two hands. He leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Get dressed.”

“In a minute…” Tweek leaned back against Craig, naked ass planted squarely on the ground, and shut his eyes. “ _Nnh, I_ like it here.” They kissed again, and his hands slid over Craig's chest, thumbing at his nipples. Craig's mouth found its way to his neck.

“That homophobe might come back,” he quietly teased. Tweek’s answering hum buzzed under his ear. Craig’s tongue slipped around the curve of his Adam’s apple and he made to lick over the little stems that burst into inky blooms over Tweek’s skin, but Tweek caught his face in his gnarled hands and pulled him up again. It seemed like he was going to kiss him at first, but he put his hands on Craig’s shoulders and pulled himself to his feet. They dressed in comfortable silence and went back to the trail hand-in-hand.

 

* * *

 

Craig was supposed to act like he had no prior knowledge of Tweek’s plans, but it didn’t matter. As he stood there in the middle of their hotel room, hands on his collar while his gaze traced the lattice gold patterning on the blue carpet at his feet, a strange giddiness filled his chest and something far deeper stirred in his gut. Tweek’s hand touched his shoulder.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told him. “I’m gonna set it up while you’re getting undressed, okay?”

The fear took hold when Tweek looked right into him. Craig didn’t want to know what he might have found in those eyes, but when he stared into them, they were clear. It wasn’t like the last time. The corner of Tweek’s mouth lifted in a little grin. Craig took him by the nape of his neck and kissed him. He couldn’t help it. The sight of him like this still managed to make his heart swell, maybe more than he’d anticipated. _It’s just like you,_ he thought, catching his fingers and squeezing them. They twitched in his hold, perhaps betraying the lack of smoke in his eyes, but Craig was still going to count his blessings.

“You’re perfect,” said Tweek. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

He did, facing the door, while Tweek shuffled around behind him. When it was time to proceed he pressed a hand over Craig’s eyes and urged him toward the bed. They didn’t stumble even once, but the gnawing in his chest gave way to a swift and sudden guilt, because he’d spoiled his own present and he had to act surprised anyway.

Although it wouldn’t be much of an act as he thought, because Tweek said, “shut your eyes.”

Immediately the light behind Craig’s lids went dark as velvet brushed across his face and Tweek tied it solid behind his head. Craig exhaled, flexed his fingers in the sheets, and heard a few of his knuckles pop. He shifted his weight. Tweek had not told “Boofit420” about this. The guilt spread out over Craig into a slow but burning panic. He touched his chest self-consciously. Tweek took him by the wrist and gently pulled it away.

“Relax,” he said, and kissed the lines of his palm. “No pain. Right?”

“Yeah,” Craig said after swallowing. Something brushed over his shoulder and thumped against his clavicle and even if he hadn’t been previously informed, he would have known it to be rope. Soft rope, like what they’ve used before. But it would catch more than his hands this time. He breathed out, knelt there obediently, and when Tweek told him to lift his arms, he did just that. The rope slithered around the middle of his torso, and Craig found himself thinking about the goddamn snake again. “You better know what you’re doing,” he remarked.

“I do know,” replied Tweek. His tone was defensive, almost abrasive, but he kissed the nape of Craig’s neck. “I practiced.”

“On yourself?”

“No.”

It looped around him again, beneath his clavicles. Craig let his arms fall to his sides again, and drew his back up straight. He was rewarded with the warm slide of a hand down his spine. It was really incredible sometimes how Tweek’s touch still managed to get to him, even after the length of time they’ve been together. Though, Craig supposed, the greater part of three years would feel like an eternity to anyone crossing over the span of sexually-developed adolescence into adulthood. He thought about asking just _who_ Tweek practiced on, but decided against it. Especially because:

“It was just technical, they were teaching me how, they meant nothing to me. You understand that, right? That they meant nothing to me?”

“I know.” He tilted his head back, sought out Tweek’s mouth, but all he could find was empty air. A chuckle rolled from Tweek’s throat somewhere behind him, and then his hands were on either side of Craig’s head.

“Good,” he said. “Eyes forward.”

“You covered them anyway. Maybe so I don’t notice if you fuck up.”

Tweek swatted at him, right on his bare ass. “I wasn’t gonna tie your hands up,” he said, “but maybe I will!”

“Uh-huh.” Craig grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Just you wait,” Tweek hissed out through his teeth, and then came the smear of lips on the back of his neck, right up against the rope he’d looped around there. But this wasn’t a kiss: Tweek sank those teeth right in, bright and sharp. Craig’s shoulders jerked back, and he felt Tweek’s fingers slide around the beginnings of his handiwork and tug Craig back into place. “I’m not here to give you pain,” he told him, and dragged his tongue over that place. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t punish you in other ways!”

It would be wise not to kept testing his patience, anyway. Not because Craig was afraid, but because it was clear how much this meant to Tweek: this display of gentle focus. He nodded without saying anything else, and surrendered in silence, allowing him to fully take over. There was something almost hypnotic about it, sinking into the feeling of Tweek’s hands on his skin and the rope, twisting and binding over his skin, pressing into muscle and bone. He craned his shoulders back and felt the taut binding across his chest.

“I wanted to get it perfect,” Tweek said. His rough fingertips dragged across Craig’s ribs. “I wanted to make sure I had everything right. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

The way he said it like that raised Craig’s hackles. His throat went dry. Was this the test?

“But then I realized, we aren’t like that, you know? We’ve never been like that.”

“Nope,” Craig replied carefully, keeping his voice even.

“Nothing ever has to be perfect, not when it’s us.” The rope made another pass around Craig’s body, and drew taut again: quiet sounds, like breath, as another knot was formed. And another. Gradually, the chill became like cool still water in the room, and there was heat, too, like smoke over his shoulder as Tweek kissed him there.

“You should be naked, too.”

Tweek halted there, and cleared his throat. It must have disarmed him. “I’m giving the orders,” he said, almost like a pout.

“Always, babe.” Craig tipped his head forward slightly, arched back his shoulders, and obediently pushed his wrists together. Tweek touched his hands and pressed them both between his own, brought them up and kissed them.

“You’re so good,” he said quietly. Craig’s toes curled. “But I’m not gonna trap you, not tonight. Not tonight.”

There was nothing about entrapment in this. It was safe, soothing, but in a way that left him alert even without his sight. Craig wasn’t sure if he believed in chakras or acupuncture or any bullshit like that, but it was like he had all these pressure points he never knew existed, and the ropes hugged them all. With each careful tie and every band laid across his skin, he drifted further away. Away from any reason to doubt his prior knowledge, away from the illicit conversation that prodded his head like an icepick. With the darkness like this he couldn’t even suss out the individual places on him anymore, or how many times the rope wove around him.

Tweek’s mouth was on the side of his neck, then his jaw, then their tongues softly rubbed together and he brought his hands up to clasp at him. “Open your legs,” said Tweek. He did. “Shit,” Tweek breathed out. “You look so fucking good.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job for an amateur.” Craig traced the knot on his solar plexus, roamed further down to one that sat above his navel.

“Don’t touch, don’t touch!” Tweek gently pulled his hands away. “Boy Scouts,” he said proudly. “And, I stayed up late the past few nights, just tying. Just tying them, over and over, and thinking about you.”

“Thinkin’ what?”

“What I wanna do to you.” Tweek’s fingertips grazed his inner thighs, and slid lower. Craig hitched his knees a little further apart.

“What do you wanna do to me.”

“Gag you,” Tweek huffed out, but he just kissed him instead.

 _I missed you,_ thought Craig. He felt around for Tweek’s shoulder and clutched the firm bone there, rubbed it with his thumb and dug his fingers into his collar. Tweek’s lips closed against his with a little smack, and he extracted himself. His hands were between Craig’s thighs again, and Craig realized there was cord against his pubic bone, into the creases of his thighs and when Tweek urged him to kneel up, he did. Tweek hands slipped between his legs.

“Spread it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. The pressure was even more intense when the strands swung up through his crotch and fit against his cheeks. “When do I get to see it?”

“Soon.” Tweek kissed all the way up his back, nipped at his shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, “you’re so beautiful.” He embraced him from behind, and Craig could feel how hard he already was. He nudged his hips back, playfully calling him out without words. Tweek pressed forward a bit and rubbed up against his thigh. Craig pushed his ass back. For a moment neither of them said anything, just lightly teased each other, Tweek’s breath hot on his ear. Then he let out a soft little laugh and tightened the hold of his arms, and sank his teeth in Craig’s neck.

Craig turned his head slightly, nuzzled into the soft hair against his cheek. “I wanna see.”

“Okay,” Tweek whispered back. “Okay, okay. Hang on.” He smoothed his hands over the knotwork and took a deep breath, muttered something under his breath that sounded like an incantation—(until Craig heard the word _five_ , he was just counting to himself, the little weirdo)—and untied the blindfold.

Craig blinked a few times, even though the lighting in the room was soft and warm, and leaned up on the bed so he could get a good view of himself in the large mirror on the opposite wall. He was outlined and marked in blue. A row of thick knots—four to be exact—ran from the base of his throat to right above his dick, and he squirmed slightly and shifted his weight, lifted up his balls to get a better look at the knot nestled under there, too. They were connected, of course, by diamonds, held apart by the lengths snaked around his back. Craig turned so he could check out the work there, too.

“Wow,” he said. Pride swelled in his chest—but not for himself.

“What do you think?” Tweek was standing at the side of the bed. Craig could see him fidgeting in the mirror.

“Amazing.” Craig lightly tugged at one of the knots, and Tweek flinched, so he let go. “Yeah. It’s fucking incredible.”

Tweek surged forward and hugged him from behind again. “I kept fucking up,” he mumbled into the back of Craig’s neck like it was a secret. “You were right about the blindfold.”

Craig’s throat closed up and his eyes stung. He turned around so he could hold him, too, and so Tweek wouldn’t see this bizarre surge of emotion out of nowhere. “You were right—this _is_ art.”

“Shut up,” Tweek said, but Craig heard the smile there. He lifted his head and kissed him.

“I mean it.”

“You—you don’t need to butter me up,” Tweek said, playfully running his fingers down Craig’s chest. “I’m already gonna ravish you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tweek kissed him again, and they segued into something deeper and sweeter, soft and tender like the little flames around them. Craig pressed Tweek close to him and, again, could feel he was hard.

His delirious brain was really, really fucking hungry for that dick all of a sudden.

Craig reached down to rub the bulge that had been nudging his leg. Tweek made a low noise and grabbed his wrist. “Hey! Hey,” he scolded, “nuh-uh. Tonight’s about _you._ Making _you_ feel good.”

“What if sitting on your dick makes me feel good,” countered Craig.

“Well…!” Tweek laughed. “Oh, I love you so fucking much.” He was still holding the blindfold, bunched up between his fingers. “I’m gonna decide what’s best for you, then, is a better way of putting it, maybe!”

“Maybe.” Craig defiantly groped him again. Tweek twisted away from him. “What if what’s best for me—”

“Craig,” Tweek growled through his teeth. It was probably wise to stop playing around, so Craig shut up. Tweek shifted around behind him and the cloth returned.

“Seriously?”

“You’ll like it,” Tweek said, his voice low and hoarse and frustratingly sultry. His hand ran along Craig’s side. “Sit tight, okay? I’m gonna get some things.” The weight of him lifted from the bed, drifted across the room. “And no peeking.”

When he returned, Tweek inched forward on the bed, until his knees touched Craig’s. His bare knees. Craig reached out for him and found nothing but flesh.

Tweek leaned in and kissed him. “You already know what I look like naked,” he said. “Visualize it.”

“It’s not the same.” It wasn’t. Tweek shifted forward until he was straddling him, and Craig’s hands rested on his lower back. He thought about the freckles sprinkled there, the lovely curve of that ass, the stupid tramp-stamp and the curly gold hair on his legs. If he looked down he’d probably see the black branches and swath of fading colours curve over a hip and the precious little button that poked outward just barely, and his cock. His delectable, perfect cock. Craig thought about his fuzzy pink balls and licked his lips. “It’s not the same,” he said, again, fumbling a hand down between them and promptly getting rebuffed. “I want your dick.”

“I’ll feed it to you soon,” Tweek said, “but right now…” He traced his fingers through one of the diamonds and Craig could immediately tell he’d put some sort of glove on. There was a cool smoothness that did not come with his rough, hot fingertips. “Know what this is?”

“A glove,” Craig replied.

“What kind of glove, huh?” Tweek drew a fingertip over the hollow of Craig’s throat.

“Dunno.” Craig shrugged. “Vinyl.” He was rewarded—or chided?—with Tweek’s finger on his lips, as if to shush him. The raw, unmistakable scent of it came to his nose and even if it hadn’t, the textured skin against his tongue would have confirmed it either way. “Leather,” he mumbled around Tweek’s finger as it slid into his mouth and pressed down his tongue.

“ _Mhm._ ” It slid down his chin and both of Tweek’s hands were on him, stroking and rubbing his shoulders and chest. Those fingers dipped into the geometric shape that surrounded his pectorals and caught one of his nipples between them. A slight chill passed through him. “You’re so gorgeous,” Tweek said, and kissed his collarbone. “I wanna eat you, I want all of you.”

“Too bad you can’t,” Craig couldn’t resist saying. Instead of playfully snapping back, though, Tweek pressed a wet kiss to the diamond at the top of Craig’s sternum, the very first.

“I’ll get as close as I can,” he said, and climbed off Craig’s lap, he was gone—no, not gone, just laying his hands on Craig’s hips to urge him to hold still, and _c’mere,_ and gently easing him back against his chest. Tweek’s skin was hot, and he was bony, and after Craig laid his head back on his shoulder his arms went around him, too. Knees parted, hard dick nudged up into Craig’s lower back. That impossible hunger seized him again, and Craig entertained a little fantasy of Tweek’s prick snagging on the back of his rope-harness, his _living art,_ and couldn’t stop the incriminating smile from twitching across his lips.

Tweek seemed to mistake it for delight, or contentment or something, or maybe he didn’t see it to begin with. Craig certainly had no way of seeing the truth, but Tweek didn’t ask after him, only tickled and toyed with one of his nipples and idly fidgeted with the rope. “You know…” he cleared his throat, a flutter, but Craig heard it. “I keep thinking about our first time.”

“Which one,” replied Craig, a sudden drowsiness overtaking him, “we have a lot of firsts.”

“I know we do.” Was that triumph? Hubris? “The first time you let me touch you,” Tweek clarified. “When you finally let me play with your cock.”

No, that wasn’t drowsiness. It was something else, something he couldn’t quite name, that fucking spell Tweek always cast over him, whether it was by touch or looking at him with those cloudy sad eyes. Whether he needed him, or needed to nurture him. “Oh yeah,” Craig murmured, “that one.”

“You were so sensitive. I loved it. I loved you.” Tweek was nuzzling into him. “So, nnn, so shy… and sweet…”

“I wasn’t that shy.” Heat rose in his face. Finally letting Tweek see him naked was the most humiliating and wonderful experience of his entire stupid life.

“Yes you were, you were so nervous I'd think you were ugly or something. But you're beautiful, you're so beautiful, you have such a beautiful cock.” After saying this he kissed one of Craig’s temples, fingers unabashedly exploring between his legs. Craig spread them slowly. “Oh, yes,” his lover cooed in delight. “Yeah, you're so hard already, oh, you were so hard. You wanted it so much.”

The rope moved and shifted along with him, pressed taut around his dick and the little knot under his balls rubbed against the seam there. It was uncomfortable, and it was hot, his asshole gave a little answering throb. “Yeah,” Craig breathed out, and carefully turned his head to seek out Tweek’s lips. Tweek met him halfway, only allowed their mouths to lightly graze one another.

“You let me kiss it,” Tweek whispered, “and what did I do? What’d I do, baby?”

“Blew me,” Craig murmured back. A funny, hot tingling spread through him, starting from his chest. He knew exactly where Tweek was going with this.

“Mhm, I sucked your cock, the first time anyone had seen it, touched it… and you…” He nuzzled his ear, and whispered into it, “when you came for me…”

“Yeah, I made an ass of myself.”

“Nuh uh.” Tweek stroked Craig’s inner thigh. “You didn’t mean to say it, and that’s how I knew you meant it. That's how I knew. That’s what made it so sweet, and… I wanna hear it, again, say it for me.”

Craig's throat was dry. He shut his eyes and exhaled slowly. “I love you,” he said quietly, and felt a splash of relief at how his voice didn’t crack or waver. As if to reward him, Tweek took him in hand and caressed, the heat from him through the leather, and Craig was so easy for it. He parted his thighs even wider. This must have been the correct thing to do because Tweek sighed, his warm breath tickling Craig’s ear, and rolled his hips.

“That night meant everything to me. You meant everything to me.”

Craig fumbled around, found Tweek’s arm—the one not playing with his cock—and traced over it until he found the rough edge of the leather glove. He slipped a finger underneath. Tweek’s palm was molten-hot and completely slick with sweat.

“What are you doing?” Tweek’s hand twitched away from him.

“I was gonna try and hold your hand, but I forgot about the glove,” said Craig.

Tweek gave a little huff, a tiny noise in the back of his throat. “Do you like that, though?” His palm curved beneath it as he wrapped Craig up in his fingers, and he dragged his thumb up, rubbing the foreskin back and forth over the head of his dick.

“Uh-huh,” exhaled Craig. What he really would have liked to do was push forward and fuck that hand, feel the supple, lightly-textured skin slide over him. He wanted to see what Tweek looked like, too, entirely naked save for the gloves, eyes closed in pleasure as he touched himself.

None of these things graced Craig’s senses; in fact the touch around him melted away and trickled all the way down. “How’s this?” Tweek cooed, and a finger tapped against that nasty little knot.

“Terrible,” Craig answered. Tweek’s arm went around his chest and Craig felt squirming beneath him; Tweek pulled him close with a little grunt and Craig realized he was reorienting them, probably for better access to his dick. He was taller than him, but Tweek had as much strength in him if not more.

“Anyway…” Tweek was touching him proper again, rubbing the very tip where it lay tender and exposed. “I think of that as our first time. It meant so much more than… than when we first did anal. You know?”

“I’m the one who was a virgin, honey.”

“I know that,” Tweek said. His voice was a little tight. Craig stroked a hand over his arm and he responded by taking him completely in his hand. Craig all but melted back against him, and it was clear by the way Tweek let out another of those little huffing laughs and kissed the crook of his neck that this was some kind of victory. “But I felt more connected to you then, it felt more real.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t wrong. The first time they actually, definitively fucked, Tweek was so nervous he kept going flaccid and then Craig ejaculated on them both when he finally started to push his way inside.

That time, instead of _I love you,_ all he had to say was _oops._

“So are you saying you don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”

Tweek squeezed him down there, just a little. “I want to _touch_ you.”

Craig couldn’t quell the gasp that escaped him. “You are.”

“Get up.” The presence of him was no longer there, and Craig felt a little cold. The telling sound of pillows being patted and fluffed met his ears. He even felt the air when they were pushed behind him, and Tweek’s arm when it brushed against his. He could smell the leather, tinged with sex, when Tweek nudged his fingers against his chest and bid him to lie back.

He did, but begrudgingly. “Is this foreplay or something.” Tweek’s mouth was already on his collarbone. He reached out for him, felt along the ropy muscles of his arms.

“This is everything,” said Tweek. “I hurt you too much, I want to lick them away.”

Craig settled his hands on Tweek’s shoulders. “I like a little pain, you know that.” Tweek made a noncommittal noise and dragged his tongue over one of Craig’s nipples. His hands roamed over his hips, his thighs. “I wanna touch you too,” Craig told him.

“You can, you can.”

“Wanna look at you, too.”

“If you look at me,” Tweek said, “then I gotta tie your hands. That’s the rule.”

“The rule? Really?”

“Yep. My rule. So which one are you gonna do, Craig? Which one matters to you the most?”

“I guess I’d rather touch you.”

“Good answer.” He kissed more of him, easing his way down. “When you lose one sense, you magnify the others. And I’d rather you be deprived of seeing what’s coming next than a prisoner. I don’t want you to be a prisoner, not today, not yet.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Craig said; it was meant to be some kind of acknowledgement but Tweek also licked the head of his cock, so it came out sounding like a moan. Or maybe that’s what it actually was. Who the fuck knew. One of his hands buried itself in Tweek’s hair, fingers messing through the thick, soft curls. Not pressing, just touching, like he wanted to.

Tweek’s hands were on him again, both of them, running up on either side as he stroked the head of Craig’s cock with his tongue. He had something slick: some kind of oil, probably, judging by the woodsy scent that rose up. And the leather—it was a damn good thing he’d built up his staying power over the years, because this very well could have turned into an _oops,_ too. The slippery warmth on the tenderest part of him was gone, and Tweek was drawing a circle around him with the tip of his tongue, right where the rope held him. “Maybe one day I’ll do this, and take away your hands _and_ your eyes. Maybe each time, I’ll take away another sense, until they’re all gone. Until you can’t do a damn thing about it, just gotta feel every bit of what I do.”

“Uh-huh,” Craig managed. He’d barely heard any of that, Jesus, it was difficult to think with those hands on him like this, not jerking him off or taking him down his throat but lovingly stroking, finding all the best places and sweetly tormenting. His feet curled and flexed. He felt Tweek’s hands on his shins and took the silent bid, resting his feet flat on the mattress. Tweek massaged his thighs next, a little _pop_ of the glass bottle as he lathered more of it on his hands. Under his knees. All the way back up and on his ass, kneading at the muscle there, fingers slipping into the crack. Craig tensed slightly when one of them stroked the tiny crinkle there, but he thought about how it could slip up inside and he really _would_ be fucking putty, all the talk of imprisonment and freedom be damned.

But Tweek didn’t do that. He caught Craig’s balls in his hands and caressed them with the utmost care, and Craig let out a little bitch whimper when Tweek lifted them, licked right down the seam and poked his tongue under the rope. The teasing brush of the flat of his teeth and a little tug. He’d bitten down on the knot. Craig’s fingers gripped fervently at his hair. “Hm?” went Tweek.

“Christ,” groaned Craig. That pretty tongue rolled over the place below the knot, licked teasingly over the rim and back. He imagined looking down at the golden head between his thighs and his fingers and toes dug in. Too late, he realized, he’d given a subtle push, but he received no reprimand for it. Only the sweetness of tongue, playing at him gently and making him whine. He stroked more of the oil over Craig’s balls and ran his hand up the length of him.

Then he was licking his way up again. Craig shivered in delight and dragged his hands down Tweek’s shoulders. “Isn’t that nasty,” he wondered quietly.

“ _Nnn, no,_ you taste good baby,” Tweek rasped out.

“I meant the oil or whatever you’re using.”

Tweek licked a long, wet path up from his balls. “It’s not bad,” he said, and drew his tongue up the ridge, up the tip, tickled the tiny hole. Then he was gone, damn it, all of it was gone, Tweek hoisted himself up to kiss Craig’s neck.

“That’s it?”

Tweek laughed at this. “Mm, you were precoming,” he said. “And I’m not letting you, not yet.”

“Fuck you.” Craig twisted and leaned and sought out his mouth, kissed something and licked; he discovered it was the corner of Tweek’s lips because Tweek turned his head to meet him. He tasted a little bitter but otherwise, as they nibbled and teased one another, it was basically the same.

Tweek had him turn on his side, hands carefully maneuvered him so he didn’t do something idiotic like bang his head, and the mattress dipped right by his face. He automatically looked up even though he couldn’t actually see save for the shifting of light, of movement, like the times he was technically awake yet didn’t want to open his eyes. His head lightly bumped against a random body part. “What’s this,” he asked, running a hand over it.

“My knee,” said Tweek. He brushed Craig’s hands away and Craig felt the heat of his skin, heard his breaths as he leaned forward, close to him, and as soon as it touched his mouth he immediately knew. Craig moaned in excitement like the dumb lovestruck cock-whore he knew he was, and opened wide, took it in. Tweek was slow, his fingers in Craig’s hair. “ _Yeah,_ ” he breathed.

Against his better nature Craig lifted his head. He could already feel drool on his chin. “I changed my mind.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“What?”

“Tie—” Craig’s tongue darted over his lips, “tie me up, uh, tie my hands up.”

“Oh,” said Tweek, his voice airy with relief, understanding, and delight at once. He took Craig’s face in his hands, drew it up and kissed his forehead, and slipped his fingers underneath the blindfold. Craig jerked away from him.

“Nah, keep it on.”

“Oh!” Tweek said again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

With the amount of time it took, several long moments of Tweek stroking down his arms and weaving the ropes around them, between them, Craig would have expected him to cool down. Tweek didn’t merely tie his wrists together, he bound them _to_ Craig, behind his back, wrapping him like one single unit, one _thing_ instead of a being with limbs. Craig learned rather quickly when he tried to pull them away, it tugged on the rope, and especially made it grind up into his crack and press into the skin under his balls. He let out an awkward little noise when it happened.

“I can take it off,” said Tweek. “I can let it go if it’s too much.”

“Fuck no,” said Craig. And that was when he remembered: he hadn’t just said _oops_ after nutting all over himself. Tweek hadn’t bothered with hiding his disappointment, he wasn’t that kind of person, but he was understanding at the least and said, _I guess we should just stop_ and Craig told him, _fuck no._ _Fuck no._ The memory played for him when Tweek helped him lie down again, arranged him on his side, the prisoner he said he wasn’t interested in taking had fallen into his dirty hands after all. They went in like that, in the past, tenderly spooning him, and in the middle of it Tweek told him, _get on your hands and knees._

It was a really good thing Tweek’s parents hadn’t been home.

Tweek didn’t feed him his cock right away. He pushed his fingers into Craig’s mouth first, and they tasted of leather but also they tasted like sex and skin and bitterness the way his mouth was supposed to. He sucked greedily and felt the line between them, there were only two. “Yeah…” Tweek went, in his raspy lustful whisper, “you look so fucking hot like this.” Somehow, Craig knew, he knew he wasn’t out of oil, he wanted to do this for precisely that reason, and that made him burn up all the more.

His mouth burned, too, the taste of the oil became that overpowering, but the press of his lover’s cock through his lips helped take it away. Tweek probably planned on fucking his mouth like this and maybe that was how he initially pictured it, too, but he was hungry and greedy and took it all for himself instead. Tweek gasped at first like he was caught off-guard, but he let him have it, praising through his sighs how good he was, how sweet, how he wanted him so fucking badly and then those fingers slipped up his ass. Only one at first, stretched into another, slick and fragrant and the oil was so warm and tingling on his hole that it almost burned. Didn’t hurt, just burned, and he pushed back for more because he liked a little pain, just like he said.

“God, honey—” his boyfriend’s voice hitched and sort of squeaked there, it was cute, Craig actually smiled around him. “Ah, god, you, mm, learn so quick, you learn so quick and it’s just us, just us, remember when I said we can be just us?”

He hadn’t said it, though. He asked for it. Craig remembered. And he agreed, he just wanted them, _just us,_ who gave a shit about—anything, nothing even entered his thoughts except how he got railed that first time they tried, and they used a condom back then but afterwards, Tweek whispered to him, _I want you raw next time,_ and he was into it, didn’t even think through his hazy afterglow-soaked brain maybe, just maybe, he said it to others too. _Just us, can we just be us?_ And they hadn’t used protection since, save the times they were mad at each other, but maybe he was into the idea of Tweek being a nasty little whore, too, and he got to pretend whenever Tweek angrily rolled the rubber on.

As he rocked himself between servicing his lover and urgently pressing back, whimpering around Tweek’s cock and cradling it on his tongue, clenching and riding feverishly on those leather-covered fingers as they drew sparks out of him, Craig thought about Tweek’s pretty ass, too, and that—shit, that fucking selfie. His cock throbbed. He wanted to lick him and then fuck that tight, pretty little twink hole and see that stupid _tramp-stamp_ when he looked down, and Tweek could never say _it’s ironic because I never bottom_ again. _It’s ironic, because I never bottomed,_ **_until now._ ** They had many firsts, no, _Craig_ had many firsts, everything was a _first_ with Tweek, but nothing Tweek did was a first for _him,_ but if he had this, it could be, he could finally say he was his _first_ in something.

“Stop, baby, _nnnh stop—_ ” Tweek had him by the hair, not rough, just a little tug to tell him what to do and for a horrifying second Craig thought he was thinking too hard and did something awful like bite him. But Tweek was humming in delight when he pulled out of his mouth, gave a final little rub over Craig’s lips with the swollen wet head, sweet and slick with him. “I’m gonna come, I don’t wanna come yet either. We can’t come yet.”

“I did,” Craig said. “On the inside.”

Tweek laughed, nothing but affection, and popped out his fingers. Craig heard the wet little _flop_ of the gloves peeled off, and slick, hot hands on his face. Tweek kissed him.

“I love you.”

Craig turned his head and kissed into his palm.

“You’re really fucking hard, but you’re right, kinda, look at what you did—” He couldn’t _look,_ not really, but he felt Tweek fumbling around on the sheets under where his cock lay, and smeared over his leg. “Feel that?”

“Yup.”

“Nasty little boy, you’re my nasty little boy, huh?” Tweek kissed him again on the mouth. “We, we gotta be— shit, maybe just, breathe for a minute, this was supposed to be… supposed to be gentle, I wanted gentle, let’s breathe, okay?” He definitely was out of breath.

Craig wasn’t, but he nodded anyway, and leaned forward, rested his forehead against Tweek’s knee. Tweek ran his fingers through Craig’s hair. “I think you remember it differently,” said Craig. “The first time we actually fucked.”

“What do you mean?”

“After I premature ejaculated and we were gonna give up. I said no. So it _was_ real.”

He could actually hear Tweek scratching his head. “I just remember getting in the shower and you fell asleep.”

“No, babe, I can’t believe you don’t remember. We kept going and it was really fucking awesome.”

Tweek made one of those noises, the kind he made when he was pretending to try and remember, but really, he was stuck on his version and there would be no budging.

“We went doggy-style and you said you never wanted to wear a condom again.”

“ _Oh!_ ” Tweek gasped out, like it finally clicked for him. Craig smiled, but Tweek continued, “That happened the week after, though. Wasn’t that the week after? When we tried again?”

“No, the week after we _didn’t_ use a condom. You don’t even remember telling me I had beginner’s luck?”

“Yeah, I said that sarcastically, because you came in like three seconds.” Tweek kissed him on the forehead. Craig gave up, and lifted his chin to try and kiss him back. They kissed each other for a moment and Tweek said, “I know you want to fuck me, Craig.”

“Well,” Craig started, but he went quiet.

Tweek took him by the hips and rolled him on his back, then forward, Craig sort of squirming around to help and accommodate the change in position, a little difficult without his arms to leverage him. He ended up back against the pillows, with his legs in front of him, and he felt like a caterpillar in the middle of wrapping itself.

“I want it, too,” said Tweek. “I want to give that to you, but I can’t, not yet.” As he spoke, Craig could feel his weight sinking onto his thighs, and knew he was straddling him.

“I don’t want it until you feel ready,” Craig replied, but he was thinking about Tweek’s spread asshole again.

“I can give you the next best thing.” Tweek’s voice was closer to his ear.

“Take my blindfold off.”

Surprisingly, Tweek didn’t even argue or question it. Craig blinked and squinted into the light, even though it was still the soft glow of the candles, and it had long since stretched into the night hours. Tweek looked taller than him the way he was perched on his lap, and he smiled when their eyes met. Sweat glowed on his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed pink, and there was something gentle in his expression Craig couldn’t quite attribute to any single feature, he was just beautiful all over. Everywhere. He leaned forward again and gave Craig a small kiss on the lips.

“How are you doing?” he asked, leaning their foreheads together. He was slick with perspiration, and he brought a hand up to pet Craig’s face.  “Doing okay, feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Craig murmured back.

“You get— nervous, sometimes, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I missed you,” Craig said, voicing the thought from earlier, but he could tell Tweek took it as his reasoning for taking off the blindfold. And since his arms were still tied, he was still obeying his rule, wasn’t he?

Tweek pushed his hands up against the headboard on either side of Craig’s head, and grinned down at him.

“Feel that?”

There was a firm pressure around the base of his cock. Craig dropped his gaze and saw Tweek had it squeezed between his skinny thighs, right against his crotch, and Tweek’s dick was lewdly resting right beside it. He felt himself salivate and lifted his pelvis. Tweek swiveled his hips. Craig was immediately struck with the desire to reach over and cup his ass, squeeze it, but one shift of movement and he realized—remembered—his arms were bound. Tweek’s hands braced themselves on his shoulders.

“Feel that?” he asked again. Craig nodded quickly and buried his face in his neck. Tweek’s flesh, his bone, he didn’t have the act of penetrating someone’s asshole to compare it to but it felt exquisite to strangle his cock nonetheless. He couldn’t even remember the last time they rubbed their dicks together. He lifted his hips again, and this time, let himself sink into a slow, easy rhythm. “Yeah, like that,” Tweek whispered into his ear. “Just like that.”

Craig didn’t have any answering words for him, only noise. He kept finding the instinct to embrace Tweek, pull him completely against him, and he kept realizing the denial. Fortunately, Tweek did the holding for them. They ground against each other, and Tweek picked up his rhythm, hands moving away to press against Craig’s chest, knees pressed to the bed. “Can— _you_ feel that?” Craig choked out.

“Yeah, Jesus, yeah.” He stopped after a moment and wiped his brow. Craig grunted in frustration and fucked upwards, but Tweek canted his hips back with a grin.

Craig groaned in disappointment.

“It’ll feel even better, love,” Tweek said. His voice was husky and breathless, and he had the oil in hand. “It’ll feel even better. And, I don’t want you to come. Not yet, so—” He spread Craig’s legs and slipped between them, crawled up his body until he was parallel with him, and he propped himself up on his elbows. Craig closed his eyes, tensed his muscles, and Tweek kissed him, deep and tender. He felt his breath against his cheek and the nasty, delicious sensation of his balls rubbing up over his dick. Tweek’s erection pressed into him, as he hitched himself up further and pressed a hand to the back of Craig’s head, and Craig felt his gorgeous ass pushing back on his cock. Their tongues lashed as he tantalizingly rubbed himself along the length of him, low moans in his throat, and Craig swallowed them, let himself hum and sigh. Tweek wrapped himself around at the crux of his thighs.

“You feel incredible like this,” he said into Craig’s neck, lovingly kissing and biting. “So incredible, your body, just your body, you feel that? And you’re doing okay, right? Hm? Doing okay?” He slipped his hands around behind him while he asked, massaged at his bound upper arms.

“God, yeah.” Craig rocked up against him, and he pushed back. “Yeah…” They slid against each other like this, the muscles in Tweek’s ass and thighs tightening and squeezing, gripping him, his hot, soft skin. His slick body, glistening in the candlelight like some kind of fucking hero in a romance novel.

“Like that?” Tweek was saying, goading him on, he always lived for it. “Like that? Want more?”

“More,” Craig panted back. “More, yeah, more.”

Tweek did give him more. But when Craig’s balls tightened and his dick twitched against the curve of those alluring cheeks, Tweek stopped. He stopped still, and opened his thighs, enough to be _gone,_ and drew a line of kisses over Craig’s forehead.

“Fuck,” Craig was whining pathetically. “Fuck, don’t stop, damn it, don’t _stop._ ”

“One more,” Tweek whispered to him. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I’m gonna die.” Craig let out a choked wry laugh. “I’m gonna die, damn it.”

“No you won’t.” Tweek started to move again. “You’re not gonna die, Craig, I won’t let you.”

Craig rose up to meet him. This time, they didn’t stop. Sometimes, Tweek was good to his word. He wrapped himself around Craig and clutched at him, desperate, and Craig folded his legs over, pressed his heels into his ass. It was the only thing he could do to embrace him, still helplessly trapped, entrusting Tweek to hold them both up. The bed bounced louder and louder and they moaned and growled into each other’s skin, both of them very loud and very distinctively _male_ and definitely not giving a fuck, they could be a pair of sick fags anywhere they wanted. Craig couldn’t help but think about what it might’ve been like to fuck him in that stream earlier, or in the forest up against a tree when that random guy showed up, whether Tweek let him in or had him like this, it would have been incredible.

“Gonna come,” he grunted out.

“Me too, baby, me too, _ah,_ come, come all over my ass, c’mon baby.”

His orgasm ripped through him, sharp and bright and relieving, and he could feel Tweek dripping out on his stomach, and they both cried out like they wanted everyone to know how they’d just had some of the best sex of their lives and it was very important news, like the sky was falling or it was the end of the world. Tweek groaned out his last drops of relief and rolled off him, limbs splayed all over the place, his arm slung across Craig’s chest and his leg bent over Craig’s knee. Craig grinned to himself as he lay there and caught his breath. “I love you,” he all but wheezed out. “I love you.”

The ropes coiled around his skin were damp with their mingled sweat, like it soaked all of them in and held him there, captive. He was too exhausted to even sit up. Tweek retracted his limbs and rolled up close to him, lifted a hand to tenderly comb back the hair from his face. They kissed, still breathless, quick little pecks and brushes of tongue. “Let’s get you out of this,” he said. “Let’s take a bath.”

 

* * *

 

He rolled over to find the space beside him bare. Craig slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. The bedroom door was shut, a line of bright white light along the bottom. He could hear Tweek’s voice, muttering to himself—no, as Craig crawled to the end of the bed and leaned in to listen, he realized Tweek was actually on the phone.

“Yes. … No, no, it’s nothing like that, I just—I just, I want to try. I want to try, I have to try. … I know. I-I have to go, um, I think I woke him up. … Yeah, okay. Bye.”

A rush of dizziness hit him. Craig expected when Tweek opened the door, he wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he did, and came over and kissed Craig’s naked shoulder.

“You can still see them,” he said warmly, with pride.


	21. Just Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek and Kenny have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to shorter, more-frequent updates, woo-hoo!

“Oh, shit.”

Tweek looked up and the door clicked shut; it was Kenny, of course. Just good ol’ Kenny, shucking off his grimy patchwork jacket and sitting on the edge of his cot to pull off his shoes. Tweek hopped off his own bed and launched himself in Kenny’s direction like an excited little kid, whipping his arms around him and squeezing tight. “ _Hnngh!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Kenny laughed and patted his arm. “Okay, okay. I can’t—can’t breathe, c’mon.” Tweek loosened his hold and plopped down beside him on the little bed. “So, how’d it go?”

“Great!” Tweek grinned so hard it hurt his cheeks. “So great, so great, thank you _so_ much. Even if it was just once, _thank_ you.”

“Yep.” Kenny got to his feet and stripped off his shirt next. He casually scratched at his collarbone and through the cloud of giddiness, Tweek remembered.

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah.” Kenny’s lips quirked at the corners, the kind of smile that was obligatory, not real. And it would make sense, wouldn’t it? It would make sense he couldn’t really, couldn’t _truly_ be happy for someone who had decided to pull themselves out of the muck. Tweek wasn’t supposed to improve, he was supposed to slide under, to drown in his desperate attempts to avoid mediocrity.

He decided, though, it was worthless to try and call Kenny out on his reaction. Why ruin a good thing, a good mood? _He_ was happy. He and Craig could barely unravel from each other and kept kissing goodbye, over and over until they finally found a point of separation in the lobby of Craig’s dorm. Even after the rope was pulled from Craig’s skin and the beautiful indentations and lines had faded, Tweek still thought of him as bound, tied under his hands. Tied to his hands.

Tweek got up, also shucked off his shirt, and went over to Rrose Sélavy’s aquarium. “Come here, pretty lady,” he said, and lifted off the top, carefully pulled her out. Her graceful tongue flicked out and she stared at him with her blackberry eyes before slithering up his arm. Her soft pale underbelly felt nice against his bare skin, cool and soothing. “I missed you, my sweet.”

Kenny was spreading out his project over the desk. Some kind of costume he was working on. Tweek glanced over it with fraying interest and padded back to his bed on tiptoe, carefully maneuvering around their shared shit without jostling Rrose Sélavy too much. He picked up his phone and studied his face in the black surface. He didn’t look too bad, not bad at all, it was like love had cured him. There was a certain glow to his cheeks and a radiance in his eyes. His snake practically sparkled along with him. Tweek knew the notion was naive—of course Love couldn’t _cure_ him—there was too much inside to be scooped out still. He would have let Craig’s presence carve him raw, but what they had, what they shared—it would be enough. It could be enough, he could learn to create his own lifeblood again.

He pulled the phone back, rustled a hand through his hair and took a selfie. A crooked little half-smile. Rrose Sélavy draped around his shoulders like a stole, her tongue somewhere by his nipple. He sent it to Craig, and stretched out on his cot. “We’re not gonna need to go that chick’s house anymore,” he said, while running a fingertip over the top of his snake’s head.

“Oh yeah?” Kenny didn’t look up.

“Yeah.” Tweek glanced at his phone. No response.

“Where you gonna sugar it up, then?” Kenny’s tone was nothing but inquisitive.

“Here?” Tweek casually tapped his phone with his fingertips. “I mean, that’s not a big deal, right? You already know what I look like naked.”

“Personally I don’t give a shit.” Kenny’s voice became a little more strained, the words spoken through grit teeth—a glance showed Tweek he was holding a few pins there. He pulled one out and pressed it into the fabric while he spoke. “But uh, there’s a reason I don’t shit where I sleep, y’know?”

“I don’t really care,” Tweek said. “It’s just a stupid dorm, and we’re leaving soon anyway.”

Kenny pushed another pin into the pattern. “So I reckon your boyfriend’s totally cool with sharing a bed, knowing what you do on it.”

“I’ve already done it before.” This was starting to feel like an interrogation. Tweek fucking hated interrogations. “It’s not like he’ll know, anyway, so it’s still separate. I’m separate.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell him?”

“No?”

“Christ, Tweek.”

“What?”

“Just figured you would’ve told him this weekend, considering the way you called me in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t.” Tweek stared down at his phone. “Actually, we didn’t do a lot of talking…” He couldn’t stop the little grin from spreading.

“Of course you didn’t.” Kenny slid another pin through, then hissed quietly when it pricked his finger. He poked it into his mouth.

“It was great, Kenny. It was mind blowing. I… I get high off _him,_ he’s the drug, really. Everything else is just trash.”

“You know you can’t just deal with your problems by fucking each other’s brains out, right?”

“It’s more than that.” Tweek scoffed. “Of course we— of course we _communicate._ We work out our shit, we connect in ways that go beyond words. Not everything has to be talking in circles around each other, what’s the point of _that?_ ”

Kenny chuckled, like a mother whose child had just said something endearingly naive. “If it’s real talk, you won’t be going in circles.”

Tweek didn’t know what to say to that. Quite frankly, it was starting to piss him off how Kenny could come in here, start judging left and right his relationship and his choices, his decisions to better himself. “You and Bebe fuck all the time!”

“Yeah, but we also _talk_ about shit. Serious shit.”

“So do we.”

“This is really gonna be hard, you know.”

“Well I’m sorry my happiness is so inconvenient for you, Kenneth.”

“Not for me. Well, except for the part when I’m stuck dealing with you, but I’m used to that.”

Tweek’s phone buzzed. The giddy lightness in him returned and he opened the notification. _Can’t believe you still have that thing,_ it said. “It’ll be worth it. I need to do this, you know I need to do this! It’s not easy for me the way it is for you.”

“You think this shit is easy?” Kenny was shaking his head. “We’re not talking about me. You’re gonna drive us all up the wall.”

“Jesus, Kenny.” Tweek got up and crossed the room again so he could put Rrose Sélavy back in her aquarium. He couldn’t help but wonder, how might she look against Craig’s body, both of them glistening. It was a shame Craig didn’t care for snakes, a damn shame. But there was time yet. She could grow on him. There was always time. “I’m not— I’m not _there,_ you know I’m not there. I can do it, I can handle it.”

“We’ll see.”

Tweek flopped back onto his bed. “You really want me to fall further, don’t you? Want me to fall so you can bury me in the goddamn ground, and that’ll be the peak of it, the peak of our beautiful friendship. Is that it, Kenny?”

“No. I’m being realistic. Someone has to be.”

“I’m not—” God, and the mental image even made him want to laugh. “I’m not gonna end up like one of those freaks. Completely gone, completely consumed, throwing trash cans across town and like… yelling at myself all the time.”

“Of course you’re not,” Kenny said, and he shifted the conversation, finally casting a backward glance over his shoulder. “So it went well, huh? What’d you guys do?”

“Went hiking,” said Tweek. “Exploring. We haven’t had time to just explore in a while, and now I can think of all these places I wanna go. I miss when we got into trouble together!” At that, Kenny snorted. Tweek went on, “though we kinda did in the woods! I wanted to go skinny dipping in this stream we found, but then this crazy guy found us there, and he threatened to shoot us! Even sicced his dog on us, it was… insane. Really insane!”

“What the fuck?” Kenny frowned, dropped his sewing for a moment and turned around to face him. “Did you call anyone?”

“Mm, no.” Tweek shook his head. “We were okay, actually, the dog was pretty nice so it didn’t even work.” He closed his eyes. If he took away the sight of the real world around him, he could lay his hands on Craig’s body again, feel the strength under his skin and the firm cord that wound him tight. He hadn’t been ready to let him go. “It was great, you know, the _kinbaku._ And I found this blog online and read stuff, it took me back, but also, it made a lot of sense. It just made a lot of sense, you know?”

“Okay,” said Kenny. “What kind of blog?”

“Basically…” Tweek casually fiddled with his sheets. “The whole notion of anal sex, it’s oppressive—”

Kenny cracked up, completely cutting him off. “ _What?_ ”

It didn’t come as any surprise that Kenny would have such an immature reaction to the things Tweek wanted to tell him, but it wore on his nerves anyway. “Look,” he said. “Look, if you’d just shut up and let me explain. Jesus.”

“No, I’m listening.”

“It said that anal sex is an oppressive way for gay men to… to _make love,_ because it always forces one of us in the submissive place. Like, one of us always has to be the woman, and— it’s more psychological, the enjoyment the bottom gets. It’s more psychological, than physical, because of the degradation.”

“Well, that’s not _quite_ true…” Kenny scratched his chin, and Tweek noticed for the first time that evening how it was covered in a thin layer of scruff, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

 _You’re not even gay, asshole,_ came the angry thought. “No, Kenneth, this is different,” Tweek continued. “The degradation comes from the fact that _two men_ are forcing themselves into the role of _man and woman._ And most of us have been brought up to see that as _normal._ Basically, anal sex is actually a very heteronormative practice, and I never saw it that way before, and it just—it completely blew my mind, man.”

“So, what’re you doing now? Taking up a vow of celibacy?”

“No, no.” Tweek smiled. “There’s a lot of different ways that men can experience pleasure, and— and it doesn’t have to involve imitating straight sex! I just, so much came together for me. I didn’t realize how horrible I’d really been treating Craig. How I’ve been forcing him into a box and just, how I’ve been _taking_ so much from him.”

“Yeah,” Kenny remarked, “Craig really hates taking dick. It makes him feel degraded.”

“You’re an idiot.” Tweek sighed and rolled over on his side to face the wall. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know why I even bother trying to explain this shit to you.”

“You’re really something,” Kenny said. Tweek looked back over at him to find he was shaking his head and chuckling. He felt like hauling himself up and punching the smile right out of Kenny’s mouth, but Tweek was still riding the high of his weekend with Craig, so why ruin a good thing? “Boy, are you something.”

“You know what, Kenneth?” Tweek sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, though he didn’t stand. Not yet. “You know what, I don’t have to take this shit from you. If you can’t fucking support me, as my _friend,_ then what the Hell are we doing here? What am I doing here, Kenneth, why don’t you tell me that?”

“For the love of god,” said Kenny, “if you fucking call me that again—”

“Kenneth!” Tweek’s voice rose, and he called it out again, “Kenneth!”

Kenny came at him, practically flew at him, really, and shoved him down onto the mattress. He pinned Tweek with his weathered hands and said, “what’d I fucking tell you, huh?”

“You’re a piece of shit!” Tweek squirmed beneath him. “Fuck you! Are you gonna support me or not?”

“Yes,” Kenny said, his expression suddenly very serious. “I completely support you, Tweek. You’re my best friend, and I completely, one-hundred percent support your decision to never stick it in your boyfriend’s hungry ass ever again.”

Tweek kicked out at him. Kenny cracked up all over again, and dug his hands into his shoulders. Tweek tried to knee him but he twisted away. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant, you fucking moron!”

“Yeah,” Kenny replied. “I know.” And he bent to kiss him, a gentle contrast to their play, and Tweek let him. He let him, because it was okay, they’d always been like that—always been those kind of friends, hadn’t they? He could feel Kenny was hard, too, as it pushed against his thigh. Tweek squirmed against it teasingly, because it was okay, it wasn’t like it meant anything. They were just like that, right? It was just like them.

“Listen, Kenny,” he said, and closed his eyes, because he didn’t want to see or deal with any kind of reaction. “Listen, I— I’m really trying to make shit work here, with Craig, and I just— I don’t think, right now, I don’t think he’d get it, and this is the only place now, and—” He took in a deep breath. “Just kisses, right now. I think we should just kiss for now.”

Kenny pecked him on the forehead, and the weight atop Tweek’s body was gone. “Sure thing,” Kenny said. When Tweek opened his eyes, his back was already turned, and Kenny went back to his project without another word.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like any of this rot, kudos and/or comments are always appreciated! Or you can hit me up on [Tumblr.](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm also trying to make inspirational playlists for both my WIPs to keep me in the groove, so if anyone has any song recs, I'd love you forever. 💖


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